Slip Into Unconsciousness
by kwater
Summary: Dean agrees to look into a hunt he doesn't believe in to appease a sick Sam. Set in second season, between Playthings and Nightshifter
1. Chapter 1

"Sam, duck."

Never one to question that tone of voice, Sam dropped to the ground in a roll. A blast from Dean's shotgun caused his ears to ring and the spirit behind him to dissipate. Coming to his feet in one smooth motion, Sam bolted for the freshly dug grave. At the last possible second, he dropped to his knees, and slid, coming to a stop at edge of the hole. He fumbled for only a second with the matches in his hand, before lighting and tossing the pack onto the exposed body below. The small flame hit, igniting the gasoline and salt mixture he'd doused the remains in earlier. Sam scrambled backward a couple of feet, away from the intense heat of the blaze, and collapsed.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam waited a moment for a response. Not getting one, he lifted his head and gazed around the moonlit cemetery. The light from the grave had ruined his night vision, allowing him to see no more than a few feet around the still burning hole. "Dean?" he rasped, his hoarse voice protesting the use.

"Yeah," Dean called out just before he dropped to the hard, cold, ground beside Sam.

Sam gave his brother a quick once over, noted the surprising lack of blood, and then dropped his head back to the ground. "A little slow on the draw there weren't you? He nearly got me." Sam raised a hand to cover his mouth and let loose a deep hacking cough. Unable to smother it, Sam sat up leaning forward over his knees.

Dean sat, his hand hovering over Sam's back. At last, Sam's breathing eased and Dean relaxed once more. "You're not getting better, Sam. I'm thinking it's time for a doctor."

"I'm fine, it's only a cold. I just need some sleep," Sam knew his rasping voice gave little weight to his words.

Dean snorted in disbelief and leaned back, seemingly content to rest for a moment longer. "Yeah, right."

Sam relaxed next to his brother, he was more than happy to delay the moment when they would have to finish the job. Despite the cold ground, lying down with the stars laid out before them seemed like a fine idea to his aching chest. And really, why rush they'd already been in Revere, or as Dean preferred to call it, "Bumfuck Nowhere," for over a week, what's a couple more minutes in the scheme of things.

The tiny town of Revere boasted no hotel, only a bed and breakfast. One restaurant, aptly named The Revere Diner, a bowling alley that employed half the town and a small grocery store that employed the other half. The bed and breakfast, where they were staying, was owned by the Mabel sisters. Sam and Dean had quickly learned that Peg, and her baby sister Floss, were legends in the town of Revere, both respected and loved by all.

The sister's status in the small town had made things interesting, to say the least, for the hunters. Normally, the brothers were sure to stay under the town's radar as much as possible when working a job. Unfortunately, this time they'd been unable to remain anonymous. As the only guests of the 'Sisters' everyone in town knew about them before they'd even settled into their rooms.

"You ready to hit it, Sam?"

Sam heard the worry in Dean's voice. He knew his big brother's overprotective tendencies were in full force when Dean got to his feet and offered, "You gather up the tools, I'll fill in the hole."

"Fine by me," Sam said, wincing from the pain in his throat. The Mabel sister's honey-lemon tea had helped to sooth his throat earlier, but was only a temporary cure at best.

"Come on, get a move on. We've still gotta get past the sisters before we can get some sleep."

Sam nodded in agreement and grasped the hand Dean held out to him. Allowing his brother to haul him to his feet, he groaned as he looked down at his mud-covered jeans. He'd spent a large part of the evening standing knee deep in mud while shoveling out the grave and he looked the part. The only good to have come out of the night was that both he and Dean were relatively unscathed. Luckily, it seemed the esteemed Councilman Todd, the ghost they were chasing, was as poor a spirit as he had been a philanderer.

Todd, who'd died in a compromising position with his secretary, had been haunting the county courthouse out on Route 611 for over a year now. At first, he'd done nothing more than knock a couple paintings off the walls. It was only week or so ago that he'd finally become violent. His wife, who'd been voted onto the council after his death, had been inside the courthouse after hours and had been attacked by her husband's spirit. Though, Todd hadn't done any real damage, he'd left the courthouse in shambles and the widowed Mrs. Todd an emotional wreck.

Normally, a case like this wasn't something that would even attract the brother's attention. Not that it wasn't important enough, it's just that the body count hadn't been sufficient to attract the media. The boys weren't aware of the spirit until they stopped at the Revere for a bite to eat. There, they had heard all about the tale as the other customers, all three of them, lingered over dinner. Certain it'd be an easy job, the boys had hit the Mabel sister's b&b with the intention of being in and out of town before the bright yellow, floral print bedspreads, that lay on the two twin beds, could cause permanent blindness.

That was a week and a half ago. What they hadn't counted on was the early winter storm that dumped three feet of snow on the area, seriously slowing down the investigation. Plus, Mrs. Todd's refusal to see them hadn't helped. They'd ended up relying heavily on the Mabel sister's gossip to help piece together what was going on.

888

Dean winced as he pulled into the b&b's driveway, the rumble of the Chevy's engine echoing in the quiet night. They would be lucky to get into the house undetected. The brothers had figured out quickly that the Mabel sisters slept little. As an added bonus the ladies weren't against playing twenty questions with their guests if they caught them up past an 'acceptable' bedtime. Twice now, Sam and Dean had been caught sneaking out of the house, only to be chided back to their rooms like wayward teens. Determined to finish the hunt and put the town of Revere in their rearview mirror they'd left the house earlier telling the sisters they were heading for Smokey Joe's, a dive on the outskirts of town.

Dean eased open his door, silently cursing the familiar creek, and heaved himself up and out of the car. He watched as his brother followed suit. Even in the dim moonlight, he could see Sam was suffering more than he let on. The cold his little brother had been unable to shake for the last week was really beginning to worsen. Dean had no doubt that a lack of sleep and an evening spent digging in the cemetery hadn't helped. He took one last glance at Sam before he turned and headed toward the house. He vowed to get his brother a cup of the twisted sister's herbal tea. It wouldn't cure what ailed Sam, but at least it'd help take the edge off and hopefully allow him to sleep.

Twisted sisters, now there's a nickname that spoke volumes. How he and Sam'd ended up here in the back end of nowhere was still a bit of a mystery. They'd gone from just passing through to putting down roots for nearly two weeks, in Winchester terms that was practically a lifetime. Hell, he had trouble remembering the last time they'd spent that long in any one place.

Dean glanced over at Sam and gestured for his brother to be quiet. Sam of course flipped him off, a reminder that Sam wanted the sister's attention even less than Dean did. He still wasn't sure how they'd ended up sneaking in and out of the old three story house. After all, they'd bought and paid for the room and had every right to come and go as they wished.

Dean nearly shot his brother in frustration when Sam let out a whopper of a sneeze. Rolling his eyes at both his brother's ground shaking sneeze and his own inability to upset a couple of old biddies, Dean continued to the front porch. Here he was feeling like a sixteen-year-old kid trying to sneak into his parent's house. Dean snorted, though he had been sixteen once, what felt like a million years ago, he'd never been relegated to climbing through windows. Not in or out. Well, there was that one time with Tammy Lynn Crawford but that had been her window he'd been sneaking in and out of, so really that didn't count.

"This is ridiculous," he hissed to Sam as they crossed the lawn, heading for the front door.

Sam, frowning in concentration, hissed right back, "Do you remember what happened the other night when we came in late? I don't know about you but I have no interest in hearing another lecture about the evils of drinking." Sam snorted his voice raising an octave, "No, nice young girl wants to marry a scalawag," Sam mimicked, nailing Floss' tone to perfection. "I gotta admit, I loved it when you told her you'd stay a scalawag if it meant you didn't have to marry. I thought the old gi-"

Sam's words cut off, as the porch light flicked on illuminating the brothers. Dean unable to see past the glare shaded his eyes with one hand and sighed. Shit, they were caught. "Turn off the light, Peg, it's only us."

A low husky voice, belonging more to a jazz singer than a seventy year old woman, replied, "Now, boys if I'd known it was mud wrestling night over at ol' Smokey's I woulda gone on down there and laid myself a bet."

Dean couldn't help but grin at Peg Mabel's reply. "Peg, if you had gone I'd have bought you a couple shots. No worries though, the odds were all stacked in my favor anyway. You wouldn't have made much money."

Peg's voice, filled with good humor, replied, "Pretty brash of you, Winchester. Imagine thinking I'd lay my money on you're scrawny self."

"Thank you, Miss Mabel," Sam's reply was sickly sweet and full of laughter.

Dean rolled his eyes and shot out a fist, nailing Sam on the arm. "You're such a suck up."

As they made their way up the porch steps, Dean shook his head at the elderly woman before him. Peg Mabel was the oldest of the Mabel sisters at a spry 75. She was tall, thin, and severe. Her thick silver hair was always neatly dressed and no matter the hour, she was always neatly clothed. From her woolen skirt to her crisply pressed blouse and thick hose, there was never a hair out of place. Her face was lined with age and her fingertips stained yellow with nicotine from years of chain smoking.

Thirty years ago, when it was finally determined that cancer was caused by smoking, Peg had kicked the life-long habit. She'd told Dean at the time she quit, she had been smoking for nearly 30 years. Her one failing, had been her inability to put the cigarette down. So, she'd compromised. Peg Mabel hadn't had a drag on a cigarette since 1977, however, she carried an unlit one in her hand for a large part of the day. Anytime the urge to light up came over her, she'd pick up a cigarette and hold it.

Dean had to marvel at the woman's will-power. She was as rare as the alcoholic bartender or a gambler that still visited his favorite casino without ever laying a bet. She held temptation in her hand every day and she stood strong against it. Habits however had died hard. The majority of Peg's smoking had been done outside on this very porch. She would sit in one of the four rocking chairs that lined the porch, smoke and watch the world go by. Now, though she forgoes the smoking she still keeps a hawk-like eye on the world around her.

Dean had no doubt Peg knew everything and everyone that passed by better then they new themselves and she wasn't above sharing her knowledge with anyone that dared to brave her porch steps. However, despite her gossipy ways, the brothers had come to realize she was always willing to lend a hand to anyone that needed it, regardless if they asked for help.

"Come on, inside, boys. You two look about done up." Peg turned toward the house, one hand holding her coat close to her rail thin body the other reaching out to open the screen door, a cigarette shining brightly between her fingers.

As the brothers stepped into the entry, they were greeted with Floss' higher pitched tones. "You boys get yourselves in this kitchen right now. You know better than to be out this late at night. Sam you've already got a doozy of a cold, you don't want to end up in the hospital, do you?"

Dean knew it was pointless to resist, the sisters didn't take no for an answer. If they summoned, you obeyed, otherwise you found yourself called to task for it. In a way they reminded Dean of his father, only when crossed they were much scarier. With a low, "Yes, ma'm." Dean sent a longing glance up the stairs, toward the shower he'd been looking forward to, and headed straight for the kitchen where Floss waited.

Florence Mabel, Floss, at seventy-three was the younger of the sisters and a more exact opposite of Peg you couldn't find. Where Peg was tall and willowy, Floss was short, barely clearing five feet. Where Peg had a husky voice, Floss' was as high pitched and sweet as a young girls. Floss' slightly thinning grey hair, held not a bit of Peg's shining silver and was kept short in a cap of curls. In point of fact, the only feature that marked the woman as sisters were their eyes. Both ladies had dark brown eyes, as warm as fudge with a slight twinkle that made you sure they knew more than what they were letting on. They can and often did melt harder hearts than the Winchesters with those eyes.

Dean sent a wicked grin toward Floss and was treated to an answering smile and a whip with the dishrag she held in her hand. Taking a moment to wash up at the sink, he then sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Sam followed suit looking like death warmed over. Though, he felt bad his brother was sick, he couldn't help but snicker. Dean might have gotten knocked around a bit tonight, but any bruising he suffered was well hidden. Sam and his ever-worsening cold was fair game.

The attack actually came quicker than Dean could have imagined, given the late hour and the ladies age. Floss immediately set a steaming mug in front of Sam with an admonishment to drink up. Dean could only figure the sisters had been keeping a mug of tea ready for any sign of the boys return. He couldn't help but be impressed as the woman moved about the kitchen gathering supplies. Floss stood at the stove, her back to the brothers, as she dished out bowls of something. Dean breathed deep, drawing in the mouth-watering aroma of chicken soup.

Peg meanwhile, had stripped off her coat, gloves, hat and scarf and upon following the Winchesters into the kitchen had headed straight for the fridge. Within moments, she'd pulled out a half-gallon of chocolate milk, and a hunk of what appeared to be cheese. As she turned toward the table, she snapped at Sam, "Drink up, boy. Drink up. You're throat's not going to feel better on it's own."

At the fire in Peg's voice, Sam immediately sipped at the still steaming cup. A groan of pain mixed with relief escaped Sam as he swallowed the sisters home remedy.

Dean, whose only thought a half-hour before had been shower and then sleep, groaned as Floss placed a bowl of soup before him. Earlier he'd been sure it was the sister's eyes that kept him putting up with their meddling ways, but now, he was suddenly reminded of another reason. Groaning, Dean leaned over the bowl enjoying the smell. "Oh, God," he moaned as he picked up the spoon Peg had placed before him.

Floss returned to the stove as Peg leaned over Dean's shoulder and sprinkled something white over his bowl. "Eat up before it gets cold."

Dean wrinkled his nose at what looked like parmesan cheese floating in his once perfect soup. "What's with the cheese? Who puts cheese in chicken soup?"

Peg sighed and swatted his shoulder. "Just eat it."

Still looking suspiciously at his bowl, Dean's growling stomach made itself known. He glanced over at Sam and shrugged. With a mumbled, "Down the hatch." Dean dipped a spoonful of the soup and took a bite.

888

Sam watched as his brother gave him a nervous grin before taking a sip of the soup. Floss had also placed a bowl before Sam, but he figured he'd wait for Dean's seal of approval before trying it himself. Not that Dean was truly any judge, after all his brother's tastes weren't exactly discriminate. To put it bluntly Dean was basically as a big a ho for food as he was for women, yes there were certain qualities he looked for in both but when in need 'any port in a storm' was pretty much the motto Dean lived by.

Sam's brows raised in surprise as Dean let loose a moan that was downright indecent. His brother didn't bother to say anything else, he just set about in-haling the food before him. Setting aside his mug, Sam picked up his own spoon, deciding it had to be pretty good if Dean's groans and moans were any indication. Just before he could take a bit, Peg moved her hand over his bowl. Sam quickly covered it before the sprinkle of parmesan cheese landed in his bowl. "Ms. Mabel, I really don't like parmesan." Sam hated the pleading tone of his voice. Unfortunately, he knew there was no other way to deal with the Miz. Mabels as Dean had dubbed them.

Dean barely pausing from his assault on his own soup, reached out and knocked Sam's hand out of the way, allowing Peg to sprinkle the cheese. Sam gave up with a sigh. He figured it'd be easier to be polite and eat a couple bites rather than risking the Mabel sister's feelings. Lifting his spoon, he smiled at the sisters and took a bite.

Sam's groan rivaled Dean's in both duration and feeling. Unable to form coherent thought, he continued to eat, stopping only when his spoon scraped the bottom of the bowl and came up empty. Nodding in reply to Floss' unspoken question, Sam held his bowl out for more and took stock of his surroundings. It was then he noted that it was after two. A scan of the sisters showed that neither one looked at all fatigued. As he accepted a large glass of chocolate milk from Dean, a favorite of both the Winchesters, Sam couldn't help but ask, "Are we keeping you up? I mean we can clean up, if you want to get some sleep."

Sam winced at the feel of a boot connecting with his shin. One glance at his brother let him know, if the kick hadn't, that Dean disagreed. It was the sudden sound of a frying pan sizzling and a waft of garlic and butter that drew Sam's attention back to Floss. She seemed to be pan-frying some small round steaks.

Peg snorted at Sam's question as she dropped a bag of fresh sandwich rolls on the table. "Sleep, we can get by with next no sleep. It's both a blessing and a curse at our age."

"It's only a blessing when we have someone to look after. When it's just the two of us, the hours just seem to drag by." Floss carefully seared the steaks on either side and then moved back toward the fridge pulling out a jar of mayonnaise.

"Well, we're more than happy to be looked after," Dean replied his tone dead serious, as his focus remained locked on the steaks that Floss was now plating.

Setting the platter down, the two ladies finally took seats on opposite sides of the table. In a matter of minutes, Sam was handed a roll with a round steak tucked inside and mayonnaise oozing out the sides. For one moment, he considered the ramifications of eating that much fat in one sitting, in the middle of the night. With a snort, he ignored everything Jess had taught him about healthy living and instead dug in with relish. "What the hell, I might die tomorrow," he muttered not aware he'd spoken aloud.

"Amen, brother," Dean replied around a mouthful of bread and meat.

"Now, why don't you boys tell us where you were tonight and how you got so filthy?" Peg asked her own barely touched sandwich in front of her.

Sam exchanged befuddled glances with Dean. The question was so unexpected he had to scramble for an excuse. "Uh, Smokey's like we said."

"Uh, huh. And the mud?" Peg questioned her eyes pinning Sam where he sat.

Dean's reply came quicker than Sam's had and actually sounded nearly natural. "We got into an argument. Smokey's parking lot was muddy."

"Now, why ever would you do that?" Floss asked her eyes wide as she took a bit of her sandwich.

"Oh, I don't know, Floss. We used to have some knock down drag outs when we were young," Peg answered her lips twitching a bit at the corners.

Floss burst out laughing, her apple-like cheeks rosy from the memory. "Oh, we did, didn't we, Peg. Do you remember old Harold Markson? Oh, how you pulled my hair cause you thought I was making eyes at him."

Peg sniffed, the twinkle in her gaze at odds with her stoic expression, "Yeah, well you were, weren't you."

Floss dropped a wink and a grin toward Dean and said, "Of course I was. Old Harold had twelve acres up in Cedar Falls. No way was I going to just roll over and let you have him."

"Well, I guess it was a lucky day for both of us when he decided on Sally Smith instead. I still can't believe he killed her with a garden hoe and then left her to rot in the root cellar," Peg replied pragmatic as always.

Floss sighed a bit and picked at her sandwich. "Yeah, though, he did build her a lovely house first. Do you remember that house, Peg. It was solid brick."

Peg waved a hand and rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, Sister, brick or not, I'm much happier here, than rotting in some root cellar."

Sam and Dean had watched the whole exchange without glancing at each other. Both were too busy trying to follow the conversation and finish their sandwiches. Peg's last words however, were simply to much to ignore. As he met Dean's gaze his older brother quirked an eyebrow at him sending Sam into a fit of laughter which quickly became a fit of coughing.

"Come on, Sammy. Easy there."

Sam felt more than heard his brother's words as he struggled to control his coughing. Apparently, at some point Dean had left his seat and now stood at Sam's elbow, one heavy hand resting on his shoulder. He couldn't help but take comfort from Dean's solid presence as his coughing finally subsided, leaving him lightheaded and weak.

"Come on, kiddo. No need to fight it any longer."

Sam felt a tug on his elbow as Dean helped him to his feet. Nodding weakly to the sisters, Sam allowed Dean to lead him out of the kitchen. At the base of the staircase, he tugged his elbow out of Dean's solid grip. Shoving Dean back a bit, Sam nodded toward the kitchen.

"I'm fine, lock up and help the sisters. I'm good, nothing some sleep wouldn't help." Though Sam knew his brother wasn't buying it, Dean did take a step back. Sam couldn't afford for Dean to see just how wiped he really was, or Sam'd never get him out of this town. As it was, they'd been here way longer than necessary.

Sam forced himself up the stairs making sure to keep his tread steady and his back straight. What he wanted to do was crash on the nearest sofa, plastic covering and all. What he did was climb the two flights to their room in the attic. Not bothering to do anymore than shuck off his jeans and shrug out of his button down shirt, Sam collapsed on the bed giving into his urge to cough.

888

"That brother of yours is not good, young man."

Dean turned to find Peg in the doorway to the kitchen. Arms folded, she watched the stairs where Sam had just disappeared. He agreed with the older woman's assessment, Sam wasn't good and he was getting worse not better. Dean had stalled leaving Revere as long as he could hoping Sam's cold would get better, and instead it seemed to be getting worse. They had planned to leave the next morning, but now given Sam's display, Dean was going to fight tooth and nail to keep his little brother here. As small town as Revere was at least it boasted a clinic and a pharmacy. Plus, the room they were sharing in the attic was warm and clean, something that was a lot harder to find on the road.

Dean followed Peg back into the kitchen and dropped into his seat. He was going to have a fight on his hands. He knew that Sam was gung-ho to get going. Ever since he'd confessed to Sam their Dad's secret and then tried to talk his little brother into hiding, Sam seemed more gung-ho than ever. Dean had no doubt Sam was taking Dean's reluctance to move on as a sign that he was still trying to hide out. In reality, it was watching his brother struggle to draw a breath that had him dragging his feet. Peg's voice broke into Dean's thoughts.

"You know, Floss, I'm thinking tomorrow I'll run the Buick into town for an oil change."

"Well, now, Peg, I know it desperately needs it, but we really don't have the money right now."

Dean had to grin at the sister's conversation, though he knew where this was headed he couldn't help but be impressed with their manipulation.

"I know, Floss, but if that old jalopy breaks down, we'll be in for a world of trouble."

Both sisters turned toward Dean. Staring at him with an air of expectancy, they waited. Dean picked up his sandwich and took a large bite. Chewing thoroughly, he then took a long drink of his milk. Finally, noticing the impatient staccato Peg's fingers tapped on the tabletop he offered, "I could do the tune-up for you."

The master manipulators shot him identical looks of horror and said in simulcast, "Oh, no we couldn't allow you to do that."

Peg trained her gaze on her sister as she continued, "At least not without compensating him somehow."

Floss' smile beamed as she said, "Oh, I know. We can let the boys have the room at no charge for another couple of nights. After all, it's not as if we've got guests lining up to stay."

Peg turned toward Dean with a satisfied smile. "Well, now, that works for me."

Dean sat back in his seat. One brow lifted in amusement, this wasn't the first time the sisters had played this game. So far, Dean figured they had paid for maybe two nights stay, the rest of their visit had been paid for in trade. Deep down Dean appreciated their meddling, he and Sam had limited funds, and the idea of paying for the room with a fake credit card just didn't appeal to him. Paying for their stay in trade worked for him and he knew that despite the sister's claim to be destitute when it suited them, they were financially well off.

Every offer had been crouched in such a way that the brothers had been unable to deny them. Sam at one point, elbow deep dirt as they cleaned out the basement had actually Christo'd the ladies who stood supervising nearby. Though, neither sister showed evidence of demonic possession, Sam had remained unconvinced.

Dean often wondered when the time came for them to leave if they'd be able to. "I guess that'll work."

"Good, that's settled. Now, off to bed, we'll have this mess cleaned up in minutes."

Summarily dismissed, Dean nearly argued with the sisters simply to ensure they didn't always expect him to roll over. Taking a last bite of his sandwich, he suddenly found his will to argue melt away. The sisters for all their eccentricities could cook, now that might not help Sam feel better any sooner, but it sure as hell would help keep a smile on Dean's face.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Thanks to everyone that reads and reviews, it means so much and I hope you enjoy - Thanks K


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Chapter Notes:

Okay guys please take into consideration any of the medical advice in this story is total bogus. I spent an hour on Web MD this morning and have then stretched the facts to suit my needs...lol. Hope you enjoy anyway, thanks for reading - Kel

"Don't drink that it's been sitting all morning."

Dean, who'd been about to fill his coffee mug, turned and shrugged at Floss who sat at the kitchen table. "I've had worse, trust me."

"Just because you can drink it doesn't mean you should. I was about to make a fresh pot for myself, there's no reason you can't wait a moment," Peg replied as entered the kitchen.

Dean backed out of the way, careful to stay out of range of Peg's elbows. The ice hockey world didn't realize what they were missing with Peg. The woman could have been a legend on the ice thanks to her elbow jab alone. Unafraid to use it, she always managed to catch Dean in the side just under his ribs. Though, you might not guess it, her pointy little elbows were enough to bring a tear to the eye.

While Peg busied herself with the coffee, Floss stood and shoed Dean toward a seat. "Sit, I'll get you some breakfast."

Dean knowing there was no point but unable to overcome a lifetime of training said, "No, really, Floss don't go to any trouble. I'm heading out, I'll just grab something on the road."

Floss ignored his words as she pulled eggs and some bread from the refrigerator. "Heading out so soon? It's freezing out, you'll catch your death."

Conscience clear, Dean sat back and enjoyed the smells that filled the warm room. As he noted Peg's perfect grooming and Floss's neat floral-print housedress, he found himself wondering if either lady had gone to bed last night. He'd been awoken at six by a bout of coughing, courtesy of his brother, and had been unable to get back to sleep. On his way to the shower on the second floor he'd heard the sound of the TV coming from the downstairs living room.

"How's your brother? I heard him cough a couple times last night, he doesn't sound good," Floss said as she expertly cracked a couple of eggs in a blue mixing bowl.

"You tell him when the coughing gets bad to take a hot shower. Even just sitting in a steamed up bathroom will ease his cough," Peg said, setting a steaming mug of coffee in front of Dean, before dropping into the seat that Floss had vacated.

"That's true. In fact, Peg, do we still have that eucalyptus oil? You remember we used to use it when mother was under the weather. A couple drops of that in some steaming bathwater and young Sam will feel worlds better."

Dean let the banter wash over him not bothering to get involved. He knew the sisters were more than capable of holding their own conversation with minimum input from him. Not to mention that it really didn't matter what he said, they had a way of doing what they wished. If they decided that Sam needed a eucalyptus bath, than a bath Sam would get. Arguing would only ensure that one of the sisters accompanied him to make sure he was following their instructions to the letter.

Floss slid a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and a side of toast under Dean's nose. With a pat on his back she moved around the table and took a seat next her sister. Digging her hand into a large green bowl, she drew out a stretchy looking handful of dough. "You remember Paulie Thurman, sister. He didn't listen to his mother when he had that cough. Grace Thurman told him, I was there that day, to try the steam and he refused."

Dean concentrated on his eggs determined not to rise to the bait. As the sisters stared at him in expectation, he finally bit, "What happened to Paulie Thurman?"

"He died," Peg answered flatly as she took a hunk of dough and began to work it into a flat disc.

"That's right, he did. Why that poor man's lungs just kept filling up till he couldn't take another breath. Poor Grace, she was devastated."

"Floss, his dying might have had more to do with his getting hit by a car than phlegm," Peg stated as she placed the now flat disc on a baking sheet.

Dean couldn't help but snort. Although, every bone in his body cried out against it he found he couldn't resist asking, "How exactly is getting hit by a car caused by not taking a shower?"

"Well, he was crossing the street to the pharmacy when he was struck. If he'd listened to his mother, he would have been home in the shower rather than getting hit by a Ford," Floss stated as if it should have been obvious.

"Dead like a dog in the street. I saw it happen, real shame it was. You remember he was sweet on me, sister," Peg said as she laid the last piece of dough on the tray and began to cover it with plastic wrap.

"Your memory is like Swiss cheese, sister, full of holes. Paulie Thurman was sweet on me. Why his mother even promised she'd give me her good china when we married," Floss said as she wiped an unseen tear from her cheek.

Here, Peg gave an inelegant snort as she moved to lift the sheet from the table. Before she had a chance to lift it, Dean leaned over and picked the tray up. Gesturing with it, he lifted a brow toward Peg in silent question.

"Over on the stove'll do. They should be ready by tonight."

Dean set the tray carefully on the oven and snagged his coffee cup off the table. Refilling his mug, he resumed his seat and asked, "What is it?"

"Pizza Fritta, fried dough. It's for desert tonight," Peg answered as she headed for the sink and began to wash dishes.

"Sounds good," Dean said as he finished his breakfast. "I'm heading out, I'm gonna pick up the stuff I need to do your tune-up. Do you ladies need anything?"

Both sisters answered in the negative, which didn't surprise him. He'd noticed that they were fiercely independent and preferred to do for themselves or not at all. "The car'll be out of commission all day, if you decide you need something just call my cell."

Dean was in the process of setting his dishes in the sink when he heard Sam's heavy tread coming down the steps. Anxious to avoid his brother and his ill-tempered attitude, Dean made for the basement steps. Down he went, pausing in the basement kitchen to pull on his boots where they sat by the back door. He'd been surprised to find that the house actually had two fully functioning kitchens. Floss had explained that most older homes in the area had two kitchens. They were needed not only for large family dinners, which took place regularly, but also for canning the produce they grew. Apparently, not so long ago, the basement kitchen was even used for butchering the chickens and rabbits that were raised on the property. For some reason Dean had no trouble imagining Peg down here in the basement wielding a cleaver as she beheaded the family chickens.

Boots secured, Dean glanced up toward the ceiling at the sound of Sam hacking up a lung. Determined to find something to ease Sam's cold, Dean decided to hit the drugstore while he was out. Hopefully, he would have more luck than poor Paulie Thurman.

888

Sam made his way down the steps, one hand wrapped around his ribs. The almost constant coughing had left him feeling bruised and battered. The hot shower he'd taken earlier had helped ease both the pain and the coughing but it was a temporary fix at best.

He'd awoken earlier this morning a bit dazed and disoriented. Instead of finding Dean packed and ready to go as expected he'd found a hastily scribbled note from his brother. The note said Dean had agreed to do some work for the sisters and they'd be staying at least another day.

Sam frowned in thought. He just didn't get Dean. His 'no attachments' brother was acting as if he'd suddenly found their long lost grandmothers. It's not as if Sam didn't like the ladies or that he didn't appreciate just how kind they'd been. It was simply that he itched to get going. Now that he knew what his destiny entailed he needed to find a way around it.

They were getting nowhere stuck in this tiny town. Well, at least he was getting nothing accomplished. Dean on the other hand seemed determined to pack on as many pounds as possible before they left. Sam tried to stifle a cough with one hand as he gripped the railing with the other. He lost the struggle to draw air into his battered lungs, as the coughing continued causing a wave of lightheadedness to overwhelm him.

"Sam?"

Sam heard Floss' worried voice but couldn't draw breath to ease her anxiety. Somewhere in the haze of pain from his aching lungs and the fog that seemed to overtake him he heard a voice calling for Dean.

888

Dean heard his name called only a second before something large thumped the floor above. Letting go of the screen door he'd pushed open, Dean hit the basement steps at a run. Two at a time, he climbed his way toward the kitchen calling out as he went, "Sam!"

"In here, Dean."

Floss' voice called to him from the foyer as he gained the ground floor. Around the corner and into the entry, he found Sam lying in a heap at the foot of the stairs. The site of his brother lying so still, with an ever-widening puddle of blood surrounding him, had Dean looking for danger. He cursed himself for not taking the time to fortify the house better. He'd assumed that this tiny town, so far off the beaten path, was safe. What a joke, thought Dean, as if there was any place safe enough for a Winchester.

"What happened, Floss?"

Floss was on the floor near the younger Winchester, patting his hand. "He was coughing and he couldn't seem to get his breath back, he just passed out cold. He knocked his head against the post. I tried to stop his fall."

Relief flooded Dean as he realized that the threat wasn't' supernatural in nature. Floss's words sank in causing Dean to snort at the idea of tiny Floss stopping anyone's fall, let alone his brother's solid six foot four inch frame. Dean dropped to Sam's side and turned his baby brother face up. Sam's breathing was shallow and his lips were tinged blue, it was obvious that his body was working to draw in air.

Dean settled on the floor and drew Sam's head in his lap. "Floss, can you get me a towel?" Dean asked as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

"Here, Dean, I brought one." Peg carefully made her way down the steps a fluffy blue towel in her hand.

Dean accepted the towel and carefully pressed it against the cut on Sam's forehead. With one hand, he held the towel and with the other, he dialed 911. Normally, he did everything he could to avoid hospitals. This time though the site of Sam so silent and still scared him more than he wanted to admit. They had just lost their father, there was no way he would risk losing Sam. His brother was all he had left, Dean was willing to do anything to keep him safe. As the emergency operator answered, Dean quickly described Sam's condition and gave their location.

Snapping his phone shut, he slipped it back into his pocket. He then gathered his brother more tightly against him, raising Sam up as he tried to ease his brother's labored breathing. "Hang in there, Sammy," Dean whispered as he matched breaths with his brother.

888

"...three stitches in the forehead. The main issue was his lack of consciousness. We've..."

Sam drifted on the edge of consciousness. He could hear an unfamiliar female voice was speaking in low tones. He struggled to understand the words but found himself too tired to care as he drifted off once more.

888

"Come on, Sam. A little knock on the forehead and ..."

This time when Sam awoke the voice was well known, offering comfort in its familiarity. Sam fought to open his eyes to give Dean some sign that he was okay. The most he could manage was a low groan as he lost the struggle to stay awake.

888

"Well, the good news is the chest x-ray showed it's not pneumonia, bad news is it's a pretty nasty case of acute bronchitis."

Sam awoke slowly to the sound of a woman's voice. He was unsure of how long he'd been asleep, but he did know he felt like crap. As he waited to hear the diagnosis, he assumed she was speaking to his brother. He hadn't forced his eyes open yet, but he was pretty sure the warm weight that gripped his arm was Dean's hand.

"What's bronchitis?" Dean's familiar voice washed over him, confirming it was indeed his brother sitting next to him. The worry in his big brother's voice was easily identifiable. Needing to put him at ease, Sam forced his eyes open. Surrounded by white curtains that didn't quit meet at the edges, he concluded they were probably at the local clinic. He vaguely remembered a frantic Dean arguing with the paramedic over whether he could ride in the back of the ambulance with Sam. Dean, of course, won the argument, at least Sam was pretty sure he had. The ambulance ride was a bit fuzzy at best.

"There you are. You were starting to worry me, kid." Dean's hand shifted, just barely brushing Sam's hair as the older man leaned back in his seat.

Sam opened his mouth to respond but was unable to do more than croak, his throat ached, and his mouth felt filled with cotton. Dean seemed to understand his problem and within minutes his brother was easing him into a seated position. At the sudden change in height, Sam's vision fogged a bit and he swayed slightly from the dizziness that assaulted him.

"Easy," Dean chided as he gripped Sam's arm, helping to hold him steady.

Sam drew a couple of shallow breaths, which helped to clear his head a bit. An unfamiliar pull behind his ears had him reaching up to touch the tube that ran across his face the small canuals resting in his nose.

"Leave it be, you need the oxygen."

Sam had almost forgotten the woman in the room. She stood by the corner of his bed a clipboard in her hand. Her hot pink scrubs nearly glowed in the sea of white.

"Hi, Sam. My name's Maria, I'm the NP assigned to your case."

Sam smiled politely as he looked over the blond woman. She looked to be of average height, and the rimless glasses she wore accentuated her warm, brown eyes. He guessed she was in her early forties, though she was still as slim as a young girl.

"Maria, here was the one to stitch you up," Dean threw in as Sam struggled to catch up.

"Stitched me up?" Sam questioned as he looked toward Dean in confusion. He didn't remember a lot, and what he did remember was a bit fuzzy at best, but he was pretty sure he'd been doing nothing more dangerous than standing when his coughing fit had hit.

Dean leaned forward and nudged Sam gently. "Yeah, leave it to you to pass out on the stairs, you conked your head on the newel post when you lost it. You almost squashed poor Floss. Apparently, she tried to stop your fall." Here Dean leaned forward and pointed to Sam's left eyebrow. "You're now the proud possessor of three stitches."

Well, that helped to explain the killer headache, Sam thought, as he gingerly touched his forehead, his fingers lightly tracing over the bandage there.

"As I was telling your brother a moment ago, the x-ray we took ruled out pneumonia. However, it looks as if you do have Acute Bronchitis. From your symptoms, I'd say it was caused by a viral infection. You're brother tells me you've been a bit run down lately and you've been running a pretty constant fever." Here Maria smiled a bit as if to apologize for her next words. "I was about to explain to your brother that there's little we can do for you. Now that doesn't mean there aren't some tips I can give you to ease your symptoms but as far as medication there's really nothing we can offer."

Sam felt Dean tense up beside him and he knew his brother was about to argue. Jumping in before Dean could speak, Sam nodded and said, "I understand."

"Yeah, well I don't," Dean growled as he frowned up at Maria. "You saw him, he was nearly blue when the ambulance got there. That can't be good."

"There's not a medicine out there that'll make this go away faster. I could prescribe an inhaler to help open his air passages, but I really don't think it's necessary at this point. What Sam needs is sleep, his body'll do the rest."

Sam swore he could actually hear the sound of a jail door swinging shut at the woman's words. If only she'd delivered that bit of news away from his brother. There was no getting around it now with Dean as his warden, Sam wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Suppressing a moan at the idea of being put on bed rest under the supervision of his over eager brother, Sam asked, "How long will it take to shake this?"

Maria smiled a bit and shrugged. "I'm going to have you make an appointment for a follow-up in two days, we'll know better then how you're doing. I'd say-" Maria was interrupted by a voice in the hall.

"Young man, you will take us to young Sam and you'll do it now or I will simply start opening curtains," Peg's distinctive voice barked.

Sam heard someone else stammer a bit before Dean heaved a sigh and moved toward the curtain at the front of Sam's bed. Before Sam could offer a protest, Dean opened the curtain and called out, "We're here, and he's fine."

"Oh, thank goodness, why we were so worried. All that blood and he was so blue, he looked just like that little girl in that chocolate factory movie, you know the one Peg, with the girl that becomes a blueberry."

Despite his annoyance, Sam couldn't help but share a grin with Dean at Floss's ramblings as the two woman entered the now over crowded cubby. Calling out as best he could, Sam said, "I'm fine, really."

"Oh, Sam, you gave us such a scare," Floss said as she swatted at his blanket covered feet.

"Sorry, not sure what happened." Sam's apology was heartfelt. He could have done without the drama himself if the truth be known. Now, he could no longer deny his illness and his brother would be near to impossible to budge. The brother's wouldn't be going anywhere for a good while.

Focusing on the nurse once more, Sam asked, "When can I get out of here?"

Maria, who'd been heading for the opening in the curtain, paused and said, "There's no need for you to stay, you're oxygen levels are back to normal and you have no signs of a concussion. I'll just jot down some instructions and leave them at the desk. Like I said I'll need to see you in a couple days, you can make that appointment at the desk as well."

"Will do, Doc. He'll be here," Dean answered his tone of voice brooking no argument.

Sam sighed in frustration and leaned his head back against the pillow his hopes of learning more about his future now shot to hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Dean's head dipped forward, his chin coming to rest on his chest. Exhaustion pulled at him, urging him to let go and give in. It had been a long day followed by an unending night. Despite the fact that he was used to sleepless nights the roller coaster of emotions he'd been through had only served to wear him down even more. From the emergency room this morning, to Sam's diagnosis, to getting his brother home and settled at the b&b, Dean's worry had increased rather than lessened.

Though, he felt sure Sam's illness wasn't life threatening, watching his brother struggle to breathe was killing him. Add that to the fact he no longer felt safe in the tiny town of Revere, and sleep became near impossible. He'd carefully weighed his options and had decided that it was better for the sisters to question his sanity rather than have something gain access to the house and Sam. So, he'd gotten Sam settled into bed and had then proceed to do a little recon. Rechecking the protection symbols and salt he'd used to fortify the house, he reassured himself that they were safe. Regardless, Dean still couldn't shake the fear that this morning's fainting spell could have been something much more serious.

They were wanted men and Dean was stupid to have let his defenses down despite their location. He was just so tired of running. Before he'd learned that Sam was in some way connected with the yellow-demon and other psychics, Dean had looked at life on the road as an adventure. It was something he'd been brought up to do, and even more it was something he loved. Like a gypsy he found the urge to keep moving was bred deep down in his bones and little could tempt him to give up the life. Then, well, then his world had fallen apart at a few words from his father. The idea that Sam might turn evil, his kid brother, was unbelievable. No matter how much he protested Sam's insistence that it could happen and regardless of the steadfastness of his heart, the fact that John had never been wrong before continued to haunt him.

The weight of his father's words had changed him in so many ways, Dean was sometimes surprised to look in a mirror and not find someone else staring back at him. It was as if John's words should have altered his appearance in some definable way, the way it had altered his heart and his soul.

His whole world had shifted in so many ways he found himself struggling to find his way. The job, the hunt that he'd always loved, was no longer an adventure. The open road no longer symbolized his freedom. Now, every strange town and every new person they met became a trap. Something that needed to be analyzed, before even a modicum of trust could be given. It was just another aspect of his life that threatened to overwhelm him.

His first instinct, quickly shot down by his brother, had been to hide. To go to ground, to take some time to regroup and find a solid way out of Sam's apparent future. For the first time in his life he simply wanted to grab his baby brother and head for the hills. To hell with humanity, in the scheme of things, with his father dead and gone, Sam was really all that mattered.

His mistake had been to believe that they could escape their destiny or fate or whatever the hell it was. Even if Sam had been willing, which the stubborn son of a bitch wasn't, there really was no where safe left for them to go. The peace he'd found in the town of Revere had lulled him into thinking they could hide out here. After all, any town this small had to be off the radar, way, way off the radar. Now, though, he wondered if they truly were safe, and if they weren't, if they could be tracked here what did that mean for Floss and Peg, who'd so generously taken them in.

Dean shifted uneasily, guilt hammering him to gather up Sam and head out. At least on the road they could avoid attachments. Problem was now he felt trapped. Where just this morning he'd felt safe, the idea that something bad was on its way had festered into a full-blown case of panic. Leaving now put Sam at risk, his brother was struggling as it was to simply breathe. It would take twice as long for him to fight off the infection from the front seat of the Impala. Dean could have laughed at the irony. For too long he'd wanted to stay, to keep Sam safe. Now that he was trapped by Sam, he wanted, no, he needed to bolt.

"Dean, man, go to bed. You don't need to sit in here with me."

Dean grimaced at Sam's gravelly voice. His brother sat only inches from him, both of them leaning against the bathtub as sweat poured from their bodies. The clouds of steam that were escaping the confines of the shower had helped to loosen Sam's chest as promised, but it was also sucking the will out of both men. Dean didn't think he could move even if he had to. "'M fine, Sam. You sound a bit better."

Dean glanced toward his brother and noticed the younger man make a face. Sam had awoken a half-hour ago unable to breathe. The coughs that shook his solid frame had lasted so long that Dean had been ready to dial 911. It had been Peg's no-nonsense attitude that had eased Sam's pain and calmed Dean's panic. Within minutes the older woman had restored order. Sam's temperature had been taken, high at 102.2 degrees but not as high as it could be. He'd been given a cup of the sister's honey-lemon tea and settled onto the faded blue rug in the bathroom.

Dean had followed his brother into the bathroom under the guise of giving him some Ibuprofen for his fever, and had simply stayed. Now, here they were side by side leaning against the base of the bathtub as they waited for the wheeze that had been Sam's breathing to ease. The sisters had been in periodically to supply more tea, more towels and to press aged hands to Sam's forehead in search of fever.

"Yeah, I think it's actually beginning to work," Sam's tone indicated his surprise.

"'Course it worked. I told you it would," Dean replied, as he closed his eyes and tilted his head to rest against the outside edge of the tub.

"Yeah, and you're Mr. Medical."

Dean heard Sam shift uncomfortably. The younger Winchester was exhausted of this Dean had no doubt. He was also still suffering a headache, compliments of both the coughing and the bump he'd taken earlier. "Dude, lay down before you fall down again. I'm getting sick of hauling your giant ass around."

Sam snorted and shifted a bit more. Dean opened one eye and glanced toward his brother. Sam had slid until he was lying nearly prone across the bathroom floor. Dean had to hand it to the sisters, though the bathroom was a decorator's nightmare, hell it was everyone's nightmare, the shag rug and large size made it easy to stretch out in. Even Sam's abnormally long frame stretched out across the floor fit comfortably.

"God, it's blue in here," Sam said on a sigh as if even the smallest utterances made him hurt.

Dean couldn't help but agree. Other than a white medicine cabinet and one white wicker hutch the entire bathroom was blue. Not even varying shades of blue. If Dean had to take a stab at it he'd say it was a baby blue. Everything from the tub to the toilet brush caddy was blue. It was enough to put you off the color for life. "Yup, can't imagine where they found the blue toilet paper. I mean I thought that only came in white."

Sam snorted and for a moment seemed on the verge of coughing again. However, the feeling must have passed as he settled back once more. "Floss probably dies it down in the basement."

Dean had to laugh at that one, it really wasn't a stretch to believe that the younger of the sisters would dye the toilet paper blue to match. "Well, it does match the hand knitted toilet paper caddies', you have to give her that," Dean snarked as he stretched out a bit himself. After all, it looked as if Sammy was planning on staying for a bit longer, no need to feel uncomfortable.

"And, What's with the rug?" Sam asked the words coming out in a croak.

"Got me, I never knew you could put wall-to-wall in a bathroom. Though, as a person well acquainted with hugging the porcelain god I gotta say the rug's a nice touch."

At Dean's joke, Sam burst out laughing. "Dude, don't make me laugh," Sam pleaded as he wrapped an arm around his middle.

Dean smiled at Sam's response, glad to see the kid's grin. Arms behind his head, Dean crossed his bare feet and stared up at the ceiling. He figured Sam had to be feeling better to laugh so long at such a dumb joke.

"So, you gonna tell me?" Sam asked.

Dean's eyes, which had just about slid shut, popped open again at Sam' s question. He nearly groaned in frustration. He should have known. Nothing caused Sam to get nosy like inactivity. With nothing else to focus on his brother was sure to nag him to death. He'd end up having to, God forbid, discuss his feelings.

"What?" Dean nearly groaned. He was half-tempted to put the kid off, but he was still dealing with his lingering guilt after hitting Sam the last time the kid pushed him to far.

"The steam, how did you know it would work?"

Dean, so relieved that this was a question he could answer without having to suffer through a chick-flick moment, answered promptly, "Mom."

"Mom?" Sam questioned, his voice awash in surprise.

"Yeah, you were about three months old when you came down with a nasty cough. You were okay during the day, but at night you'd get so clogged up you couldn't do anything but cough. It was a horrible sound." Though a lot of his memories had dimmed over the years, Dean could still remember that week. Night after night he'd sat with his mom in the steam filled bathroom as a baby Sam gurgled and cooed. "Mom, would run the shower and a half-hour later you'd be right as rain."

"You remembered that?" Sam's voice was so low that Dean could barely make it out despite the fact that they were within inches of each other.

"'Course I remembered. All you did was cough for days, it was annoying as hell." Dean deliberately closed his eyes hoping that Sam would take the hint and let it go.

"I just can't believe that you remember stuff like that," Sam said, his voice laden with emotion.

Damn, so much for that, Dean thought as he struggled to deflect Sam's whole you're the wind beneath my wings conversation. Inspiration struck as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. Pulling at his sodden tee-shirt Dean said, "I feel like Schwarzenegger in Red Heat. Only we're not a bunch of Russians and we're not naked."

Dean could almost hear Sam's eyes rolling as his younger brother snorted. "Yeah those are the only differences."

"Come on, Sam, even you have to admit that's a classic. Arnold was fit for that film. Like Terminator fit."

"Fit, huh? Shame the governor lost all of your respect after he did Kindergarten Cop," Sam said with a laugh.

"Well, come on," Dean said, happy to have deflected his brother's inquisition, "Like anyone would believe that he was a kindergarten teacher."

"Yeah, cause his turn as Danny Devito's long lost twin brother was so much more realistic."

Dean grinned thrilled as always when his brother was willing to play. "Please, Sam, they were dead ringers for each other. Their every mannerism spoke of their deep brotherly connection."

Damn, thought Dean, shouldn't have led him back to brothers. Intending to go off on another tangent, he was about to open his mouth when the bathroom door swung open. Floss scurried in wringing her hands a look of panic twisting her features.

"Something's wrong down the street. The police are there with the ambulance."

Dean sat up so swiftly he nearly passed out from the change in altitude. The hour long steam bath had left him feeling a bit punchy and wrung out. Nevertheless, he couldn't ignore Floss's upset. "Which house?"

Though the brother's hadn't been in town long it hadn't taken much for them to learn the name of every person on the street. The sisters friends were far-flung and loyal and upon learning that the elderly ladies had rented out a room to a couple of private investigators these friends had come far and wide to check up on the Winchesters.

"The Thompson's house. Peg's on the porch now trying to see what's going on." Floss's hands fluttered as she headed back out the bathroom door. Her last words tossed over her shoulder were, "Oh, I hope the baby's okay."

Dean turned to Sam. Holding out a hand to the younger man, he asked, "The baby?"

Sam took Dean's hand and allowed his brother to haul him to his feet. "The Thompson's three houses down on the opposite side. Emma and Even Thompson and their two little girls. Sara is the baby, one month, I think, and Shelly is the oldest at four years."

Dean had no doubt that Sam's information was correct. When faced with the boredom typical to small towns, Sam retreated into the world of research. Dean was sure his brother had checked the town over twice to make sure their politician ghost was their only problem.

"Shit," Dean breathed at Sam's run-down. "I'm gonna get changed and head downstairs. Maybe I can get near the house and see what's up."

Dean moved to turn away intent on the attic when he had a thought. Turning back to his brother, he placed one hand on Sam's chest and tapped him hard. "You will stay in this house. Do you understand me. It's gotta be close to three in the morning, I don't want you running around outside trying to play hero."

Sam rolled his eyes but he must have sensed Dean's seriousness because he finally nodded. "Fine, but get back as soon as you can."

"I will," he promised as he left the bathroom.

888

Sam stood on the porch, his arm brushing Peg's. Twice now he'd asked the senior to step back into the house but she'd refused. Her gaze was pinned down the street to where the police car and an ambulance sat, there rooftop lights still spinning. The red and blue revolving lights brought back so many bad memories for Sam that he wanted to shut his eyes against them. Too many times he'd watched such a scene play out and it never boded well for the people involved.

Earlier, Dean had disappeared under the guise of a concerned neighbor and he'd yet to return. Sam's anxiety was two fold at least. His first concern was the fact that his notorious brother had just strolled up to a local cop without the protection of a fake ID. After all, the people of the town knew who they were so they couldn't afford to suddenly start sporting police ID's. His second worry was for the Thompson's themselves. Sam had met the family a couple times and he'd found them to be the epitome of the all-American family. In point of fact, they were everything that Sam had hoped to become himself. Though his goals had since changed he couldn't help but mourn the life he could have led with Jess if he'd had the chance.

It was the girls that had really tugged on his heart. The baby, Sara, was only a month old. Her older sister Shelly was a precocious four. The older girl had in one fell swoop earned Sam's loyalty when she'd shown herself to be overly protective of the baby. Sam had a soft-spot for any sibling that protected their younger counterpart from the harsh realities of life. In Sara and Shelly's case it was the older girl's insistence that her baby sister talked to her and only her that had warmed his heart.

Sam glanced toward Peg again and opened his mouth to urge her inside.

"I'll go in if you go in," Peg said her eyes never leaving the scene before them.

Sam snapped his mouth closed, stifling his urge to curse. As long as Dean was inside that house Sam had no intention of leaving this porch. In fact, as time went by he became more and more tempted to walk a bit closer just to see if he could learn anything.

"Any news?" Floss asked as she stepped out onto the porch two mugs of steaming liquid in her hand. Passing one to Peg and one to Sam, she then pulled her coat tight and stared at the house with a worried frown.

Sam shook his head and Peg didn't even bother to respond. Sam knew how hard this was on the older ladies. They were close to most people on the street but he knew they had a special bond with the Thompson's and their children. Peg often babysat for the couple and would even sometimes go over to the house to help out.

It was then they saw Dean, his quick stride eating up the distance between them. The slump of his shoulders gave voice to just how bad things were. As he finally reached the porch he met Sam's glance for only a fleeting instant but it was enough for Sam to get the picture. Something had happened to the children. That was the only thing that Sam knew would cause his brother to look that devastated. Dean was a lot of things but callous towards children wasn't one of them. When it came to kids the older man wore his heart on his sleeve.

Somehow with a minimum of words, Dean swept them all inside and into the brightly lit kitchen. As he made a bee-line for the coffee pot, he ignored the sister's many questions. At long last he turned his cup in his hand his expression so drawn he looked twice his age. Once the sisters had taken their seats, Dean finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, but it's the baby."

"Holy Mary Mother of God, what happened?" Floss exclaimed, tears quickly forming in her bright eyes.

Dean grimaced and looked to Sam. Sam could have sworn that Dean wanted him to say something but Sam had no clue how to help. Finally, his older brother seemed to gather himself and he spoke once more.

"The baby's gone," Dean said his gaze locking on Peg's dry eyed expression. "Apparently, when the she didn't wake for a feeding around two, Emma entered the room to check on her. Sara was gone."

"I don't understand, a baby doesn't just wander off. Who do they think did this?" Peg asked her voice low and even.

Though, Sam had believed his brother a master at concealing his true feelings, he now realized that Dean had nothing on Peg. Other than her tightly clenched hands she showed no outward sign of upset.

Dean shook his head. "I don't know, Peg. Hell, the police have no idea. They're going to wait till the sun rises to check the yard for clues. In the meantime they've activated the Amber alert. Everyone will be on the lookout for a baby that fits Sara's description."

"The police." Peg snorted, her derision for the local police department evident. "Hell, I used to chase that fatty Chief Swan out of my strawberry patch every spring when he was a boy. Just what is that man going to be able to do. The most 'action' he sees is the occasional theft down at the senior center."

Dean shrugged uncomfortable with Peg's reasoning. Five minutes in the Chief's company and he'd had his own set of doubts about the man's competence. The simple fact that he'd allowed Dean, a virtual stranger, anywhere near the crime scene bespoke of the man's incompetency.

Floss's hand pounding against the table top was enough to make everyone jump. "We have to do something. Hell, while Swan's busy trying to figure out which end is up, that baby'll be long gone from here."

Peg stared at her sister long and hard before pushing to her feet and leaving the room. Both men watched, surprise evident on their faces. A moment later she returned. a metal lock box in her hands. She calmly set the box on the table and thumbed the combination lock that was on the front of the box. In a minute the lid released with a soft sound and Peg lifted the top of the box.

Inside, were stacks of bills. Each one was neatly marked with a bank band denoting just how much each stack contained. Sam shared a shocked look with his brother. He wasn't sure, but he figured the box had to contain a the very least a couple thousand dollars.

"We want to hire you," Peg said, as she pushed the box toward the brothers. As soon as the words left her mouth Floss stood and moved to her side. Both woman stared hard at the Winchesters as if daring them to refuse. "You're investigators, you're young and you're smart as whips. If anyone can bring that baby back it's you two, not our esteemed sheriff." Peg's gaze pinned Sam to the spot.

He didn't know about Dean but he was at a loss for words. Though they searched for things everyday, hunting down some crazy that had stole a kid was way beyond anything they'd done before.

"Peg, We don't--"

"That's a load of bullshit. We can get more money," she said with confidence.

Dean shook his head. "It's not the money. This is simply not something we do. The Thompson's are better dealing with the local authorities."

"Don't you dare feed me a line, Winchester. You were here five minutes and you knew all about Mayor Todd's affair. You two are good."

Again Dean started to rebut Peg's reasoning when the woman's next words stopped him.

"As a favor to us. Please."

Sam watched the fight go out of Dean. His brother's gaze met his own. At last Sam nodded, they had no choice. What they were unwilling to do for a couple strangers they couldn't in good conscience deny the woman that had taken them in.

Sam spoke up, "We'll see what we can do."

Dean was the one that spoke at the older woman's exclamation of thanks. "Don't thank us, in fact, forget you ever mentioned that we look into this. Sam and I don't exactly work above the board at all times and the less you get involved the less chance you'll be put at risk."

Peg's expression darkened as if she was just now realizing how large a favor she'd asked for. "I don't want you boys doing anything that might be risky."

"Trust me when I say it'll be nothing new," Dean said with a bitter laugh.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Alright as always please let me know your thoughts - Thanks Kel


	4. Chapter 4

"So what now?" Sam asked his gaze focused on the house down the street.

"Got me, this isn't exactly our area of expertise." Dean turned slightly to face his brother. "This isn't gonna end well, Sam. Whoever took that baby is long gone by now."

"Yeah, well, we have to do something. We're supposed to help people."

Dean couldn't help but cringe at Sam's hoarse voice. Unable to go back to sleep, the brothers had joined the Mabel sisters in the kitchen to await daylight. Once the sun made its appearance the lone sheriff's car had been joined by a host of state trooper vehicles, including a crime scene investigation van.

Every now and again one of the Winchesters would make their way to the front porch to watch as police swarmed the property and the surrounding neighborhood. As near as Dean could tell there had been little progress.

Now, as the afternoon began to wane the Winchesters stood on the porch and watched as the cops started to slip away one by one. As the last of the state police cleared out, Dean nudged his brother. "Why don't you get some sleep. I'm gonna head out and see what I find."

Sam shook his head his chin clenched in determination. "No, you go I go. I'm fine, there's no reason I can't come with you."

"Yeah, actually there is, Sam. I'm planning on plying the local police force with liquor, that's something I can do better on my own." Dean glanced toward the neighbor's house and noted the sheriff's car pulling out. "Why don't you and the ladies head over to the Thompson's and offer them some cake or soup or whatever the protocol is. You know the family you might be able to learn something useful."

Sam smiled tightly. "Not sure there's a protocol for what food goes with baby snatching, Dean."

"Casserole," Peg replied as she exited the house. "We've already finished it. We were just waiting for the sheriff to leave before we head over."

Dean clapped Sam on the back and said, "See that, casserole." Sam rolled his eyes at him, but nodded in agreement. "Good, you go bat your eyelashes at Emma Thompson and see what you can find and I'll see what the police have so far."

Dean walked to the low brick wall of the porch and leaped nimbly over it, landing on the far side. As he pulled the Impala's keys from his coat pocket he took one last look over his shoulder at his baby brother. "You get down there and get back, Sam. You look like shit."

888

Dean pulled into the parking lot and pointed the car toward the darkest corner of the lot. Once parked, he focused on the police cruiser he'd noticed from the road. It figured he'd find Swan at the last bar he checked. The officer had struck Dean as kind if not very sharp, so it hadn't been hard to figure when faced with a tragedy like the Thompson baby going missing, Swan would want a belt and some company. Hence Dean's bar search. The kicker was Swan had ended up, not in a dive like Jumping Joe's but, in a tiny Italian restaurant in the center of town.

Dean pulled his keys from the ignition and double-checked the gun in his inside jacket pocket and the knife in his boot. Although the place didn't look rough, he'd long ago learned that it was better to be prepared.

As he climbed out of the car and headed for the entrance he had to wonder at his own stupidity. He would never admit it to his brother, but he couldn't help but worry prolonged exposure to Sheriff Swan might make the older man curious about him. The dead version of himself that he'd left behind in Saint Louis made things difficult to say the least. However, when dealing with small town cops it was always easier to work with them rather than against them. They were simply too good a source of information to ignore. So here he was ready to buy a few rounds in order to butter up the locals.

Dean walked into the small stucco building expecting to find a glorified pizza joint. Instead of the red-checkered tablecloths and murals of Venice he expected to find, he was greeted by a large open room scattered about with tables and booths. The walls were a warm buttery color and lined with frame after frame of photographs. The tables and booths were set with snowy white table cloths and linen wrapped silverware. Curious about the pictures, Dean stepped closer and studied one of them. The black and white photo depicted a young woman dressed primarily in black her dark hair draped with a piece of lace. Everything from her clothing to her hair suggested the picture was taken in the early 1900's. The black frame that held the image had a small bronze plaque at the bottom that read 'Allesandra Palmucchi - 1903'

A quick glance at the rest of the framed pictures showed Dean they were all similar. Each one held a photo of one or more people and each frame was inscribed with their names and a date. As he made his way toward the bar in the far corner of the room, he found himself fascinated by the sheer quantity of pictures.

He took a seat at the bar careful to nod in acknowledgement to the sheriff and two men that sat in the seat opposite him. As he waited for the bartender, a grizzled older man, he put his back to the wall and looked out at the restaurant. His plan was to get the sheriff to talk to him, rather than the other way around, people always offered more if they initiated the conversation. Content to wait, he decided to take a look at the menu. If he was going to be here for a while he might as well eat.

"What can I get you, son?"

Dean perused the menu for only a moment before he shut it. He had a feeling the food would be good whatever he ordered so he went with something different. "I'll take whatever you have on tap, and the calamari."

"You got it, kid," the old man said as he turned to pour Dean a draft. After placing the beer before Dean, the bartender stepped out from behind the bar and disappeared into the kitchen. As Dean sat, nursing his beer, he found his eyes drawn to the pictures once again.

"It's our own version of Ellis Island," the bartender said as he slipped behind the bar once more.

Dean focused on the older man and asked, "What do you mean?"

"Each one of the people in the photographs came from the old country and settled in this area," the bartender said with a look of pride.

Dean looked about in surprise. He found it hard to believe that such a small town could boast such a large number of immigrants.

"I'm Frank, by the way, this is my place." The bartender held out his gnarled hand to Dean.

"Dean," he replied as he carefully shook the older man's hand. "Nice place you have here."

"Yeah, well I'd ask if this was your first time in here but seeing as you're staying with the sisters I know it is."

Dean took a swallow of his beer before asking, "Why's that?"

"Well, hell, if the Mabel sisters are cooking there's no reason to be eating at a restaurant. Those old broads could put me out of business tomorrow if they chose to open their own place."

Dean had to snort at Frank's use of the word 'old', after all, he had to be right up there with the sisters in age. "Gotta admit, their cooking is one of the reasons I'm in no hurry to go."

"How's that brother of yours doing, he feeling any better yet?" Frank asked as he reached out to place another beer in front of Dean.

"He's coming around." Dean was unsurprised at Frank's knowledge, after all, most bartenders prided themselves on knowing what was going on in their towns.

"Good, glad to hear it. From what I understand he was pretty bad off."

A few moments later Frank came out from behind the bar and headed back toward the kitchen. Dean turned slightly on the pretense of looking at more of the pictures and noted the Sheriff and his buddies quiet conversation.

Frank emerged from the kitchen, carrying a huge platter. As he set it in front of Dean, the older man said with pride, "Now, Floss is good, but even she'll admit my calamari is the best."

"Better stop your bragging, old man. If Floss were to hear you, you'd be in a world of trouble," Sheriff Swan said as he stepped up to the bar a grin on his face.

Frank scowled a bit and muttered, "I ain't like you boys, I'm not scared of a couple of old ladies."

Sheriff Swan laughed and nodded. "Yeah, is that right? How about get Peg on down here and you can tell her that yourself."

Frank flushed slightly and turned from the bar. Putting his back to the sheriff, he muttered, "Aw, mind your own business."

Sheriff Swan was a small man, he stood a good couple inches shorter than Dean. His sparse brown hair was trimmed short and his face was clean-shaven. To Dean he looked like he'd once been fit but had let himself go in the last couple of years. Though he wasn't fat, his beer gut was beginning to put a strain on his shirt buttons.

Over at the Thompson's place he'd seemed fairly competent, though grossly out of his league in dealing with the apparent kidnapping. Dean had met a lot of law enforcement in his years and had become something of an expert. The best he could say about Thompson was that the man hadn't made things worse.

"We're gonna take that bottle now, Frank. How about fixing us up with a plate of that squid it's looking mighty tempting."

Frank turned to face the sheriff and shrugged. "You're out of luck tonight, Paul. He got the last of it."

Dean never one to pass up an opportunity, pushed the plate toward the sheriff. "You guys want some? I'll never be able to eat this much on my own."

The sheriff focused on Dean for a moment, and the younger man held still. Careful to remain cool, he waited to see what Swan would do.

"Sounds good. Why don't you get that beer refilled and come join us. It's been a shit day and I plan on knocking back a few." The sheriff lifted the plate and his re-filled beer and headed toward the back booth.

Dean accepted his own glass from Frank and followed the sheriff. Of the two men that sat in the booth with Swan, the one wearing the deputy uniform was the younger. Probably close to Dean's age, he looked a bit worse for wear. Pale, with dark circles ringing his eyes, he kept his hands clenched around the beer that sat on the table in front of him. Dean had seen the deputy a couple times coming in and out of the Thompson's and he knew the guy was one of the three men under Swan's command.

The other man was older, heavyset and probably closer to Swan's age. He sat nursing a beer, a half-eaten bowl of pasta in front of him. At the Sheriff's approach both men looked up.

"Guys, this here fine fellow has agreed to share the last of Frank's calamari with us," the sheriff said as he placed the plate on the table and slid into the booth.

"Guess he's never tasted it before if he's willing to share," the heavyset guy replied. "I'm Jimmy, this here kid's Tommy," he said as he gestured toward the deputy.

"This is Dean, Him and his brother are staying with the sisters. They're doing their best to fatten him up like a Christmas goose," Swan said with a laugh.

"He ain't kidding, kid. You watch out or else you'll find yourself served up on a platter. Those two ladies have spent their lives just reeling men in with their cooking."

Dean, here under a direct order from the sisters, could only smile grimly at Jimmy's all too apt words. Satisfied that he'd gotten his opening, he reached out and picked up a piece of the fried squid an popped it into his mouth. With a groan of delight, he picked up another.

Frank's, 'told you kid' was the only sound heard, other than the occasional groan, for the next few minutes as everyone enjoyed the calamari. Dean was content, he'd made it farther than he could hope and had yet to show his hand at all. Dean had learned that fishing for information was often like a hand of poker. You needed to be aware of the undercurrents at the table, and you needed to conceal your own hand, offering up only the information you wanted known and keeping the rest to yourself.

At last the plate was nearly empty and everyone needed refills on beer. Dean stood intending to buy the next round when the Sheriff placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him back down into his seat.

"Hey, Frank, give us a bottle," he called out to the bartender.

"Boy, you are gonna tie one on," Jimmy said as he leaned back in his seat.

"Damn, straight, after the day we had..." Swan's voice trailed off as he met his deputy's gaze. The kid blanched a bit, and drank down the last of his beer.

It was then Frank appeared at Dean's elbow a bottle of clear liquid in his hand. Dean very nearly groaned as he read the label.

"You ever drink Anisette, Dean?" Chief Swan took the bottle and the glasses and poured a dram for each of them.

"Yup, I have actually," Dean answered trying to block the images of the puke fest the clear liquid induced in him the last time he'd tried the licorice tasting liquor.

"Good man," the sheriff said as he raised his glass. "Salude"

"Salude," the other man echoed.

Dean lifted his glass in acknowledgment and took the obligatory sip of the clear liquid. Careful not to grimace he looked up at the others and noticed they were staring at him. It was obvious they were testing him, trying to decide if he was to be allowed in the inner circle. Dean had no intention of backing down, if he was going to help the Thompsons he needed an in with the sheriff's department.

It was only later, as the men continued to bullshit refilling their glasses again and again, Dean began to wonder if he was wasting his time. Perhaps he'd read the situation wrong and the men were simply blowing off steam rather than gathering for the pow-wow he'd hoped for.

It was well past ten p.m. when the last drop of anise was poured. Dean had been carefully judicious in his drinking, he had no intention of losing control here. He had to admit, he was impressed by both Paul Swan and Jimmy Fitzwater. Both men had downed more than Dean and yet neither one seemed at all affected. Tommy, the young deputy, was nearly comatose. He'd long ago given up drinking and now sat in the booth his head resting on his arms. The slight snore that issued forth was the only indication he hadn't dropped dead.

"Frank, bring us a bottle of the red and an order of rings," Jimmy bellowed. The noise caused Tommy's snoring to stutter a bit, but still the kid slept on.

Frank brought a heavy dark green wine bottle to the table and set it down. There was no label to be found, though Dean assumed it was indeed wine. What threw him off was the appearance of tumblers similar to what they'd used for the anisette. Dean never drank wine. The idea of actually ordering a glass without falling down in laughter or blushing in embarrassment had ensured that.

As Paul filled the three tumblers Dean was reassured that at least he needn't worry about getting drunk. There was no way he'd end up on the floor over a bottle of red wine.

Paul lifted his glass and sipped the dark liquid. "So, Jimmy, my favorite brother-in-law, what're my choices?"

Dean focused on the two men surprised to find that Jimmy and Paul were related. Neither one had made any mention of it over the last couple of hours.

"Shit, Paul, I may be the district attorney but that doesn't mean I know any more than you do." Jimmy's affable face sagged into a frown as he contemplated the drink in his hand. "I just can't believe it, I mean I know she had that trouble years ago, but still."

Paul ran a hand across his face and groaned. "If I hadn't found that poor little babe laying in the woods I never would have believed it myself. But, I did. And I'm telling you the room was clean. No one went in and no one came out. Well no one other than Emma."

Dean wanted to howl in anger as the Sheriff's words sank in. "You found the baby." It wasn't a question but a statement.

"Poor little thing was lying in the woods a couple hundred yards from the back of the house," Paul's voice was ripe with pity as he gulped down more wine.

"The husband?" Dean questioned. Keen to avoid scrutiny he took a drink of his glass surprised to find the dark red liquid was not at all fruity as he'd thought it would be. Instead it was dry and strong. Grateful for the warmth that stole through him at the first sip, he took another.

"Alibi's tighter than a frog's ass," Paul answered.

"So you're thinking it was the mother," Dean supplied a feeling of true regret flowing through him. Though he couldn't say he was honestly surprised he couldn't help feeling angry and disappointed.

"Well, between her history and the lack of evidence pointing to anyone else, I don't see that there's any other option," the sheriff said.

From his tone, Dean understood that the sheriff wished he could point the finger at someone else, anyone else. Dean couldn't blame him, he was in no rush to go back to the b&b and explain this to the sisters and Sam.

888

Sam awoke with a start. Unsure of what was wrong, but certain something was off, he sat up. He'd fallen asleep on the couch shortly after five pm. He must have slept for a while because the room was completely black. Reaching out he fumbled with the tableside lamp and switched it on.

"Argh..."

Sam jumped a mile at the sound. "Dean?"

There on the recliner across from him, looking the worse for wear, was his brother. Springing lightly to his feet, Sam hovered over the elder Winchester. "Dean, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Calm down, Sammy. 'm fine. Just wasn't expecting the light."

"Where the hell have you been?"

"Out schmoosing the locales," Dean groaned as he sat up a bit straighter.

Sam took a step back, giving his brother some room. He couldn't however force himself to sit back on the couch, at least not as long as his brother looked as if he was gonna fall down dead any minute. "Just how much schmoosing did you have to do, Dean? You look like shit."

Sam had to admit to himself he was surprised by Dean's condition. Though his brother could drink with the best of them, he never got drunk on a job. His older brother was an expert at pretending to lose control, but he never actually lost it.

"Yeah, well you'd look like shit too, if you'd spent the day trying to prove to a bunch of old men you can hold your liquor." Dean followed this statement with a groan.

Sam, reassured that nothing was wrong, collapsed onto the couch. "Yeah, well I've spent the day being browbeaten by a couple of old ladies."

"Good point, I won't complain. So what'd you find out, anything?"

Although Dean kept his eyes closed while he spoke, Sam could tell by the tone of his voice that he was troubled. That didn't bode well for the Thompson family. Sam sighed and said, "Not much. I managed to get 'lost' coming back from the bathroom and ended up in the baby's bedroom. There was nothing to show, no EMF, no sulfur, nothing. The Thompson's seem on the up and up, they were both completely devastated."

"Yeah, maybe," Dean said his eyes opening a fraction.

"No, maybes, Dean. Emma's heartbroken and Evan keeps blaming himself."

"Why's he blaming himself?" Dean asked.

Sam had a feeling Dean knew more than he was letting on, and he spoke carefully so as not to add to whatever his brother's working theory was. "He wasn't home. He was away on business and only got back this morning. His alibi's tight though, he was traveling with a co-worker."

"Yeah, I'd heard his alibi was good."

His brother's emphasis on the word 'his' wasn't lost on Sam. "Dean, don't. I saw her, hell I spent two hours sitting right next to her. She's not the bad guy here." Sam felt himself growing angry with Dean's insinuations.

"Listen, Sam. You can't go through life believing that everyone's innocent. Shit like this happens everyday."

Dean's world weary tone stopped Sam from raging at his brother. Dean had grown up in a world where very little good ever happened. The Winchesters had spent their formative years living in low rate motels, boarding houses and cheap rentals. During his younger years, Dean had done everything possible to protect Sam from the hasher realities so often seen in places like that. The problem was there had been no one to protect Dean. His brother's view of humanity, low to begin with, had become pretty black indeed. It seemed only children escaped Dean's pessimism. Well, children and maybe seniors, Sam thought as he considered his brother's fondness for the sisters.

"I know it happens, Dean. I do. I don't live in a bubble like you seem to think. It's just in this case I really do believe Emma. She couldn't have done it."

"Well, you're the only one that believes her, tomorrow morning she's being taken into custody for questioning."

"Oh my, that poor baby."

Sam turned his head to see Floss and Peg making their way downstairs. Despite the late hour both sisters were fully dressed. He had to smile at his brother's heartfelt groan as the sisters moved into the living room.

Sam exchanged glances with his less than sober brother. Dean lifted an eyebrow asking for Sam's opinion. Sam had no doubt his brother had bad news, but he couldn't see anyway to avoid telling the sisters. Besides, in every likelihood the women would hear it from someone else even if Dean could manage to evade their questions.

As the sisters took seats Dean sat forward all traces of his hangover gone. It was hidden behind the same mask that concealed his sorrow over the news he was about to impart. Though Dean didn't believe in the innate goodness of humanity he always seemed to take it personally when he was proved right.

"I tracked down the Sheriff," Dean said his voice low and grave. "It wasn't hard, after the night he'd had old Swan headed straight for the nearest bar."

"Allegro," Floss stated.

"Yup, I wandered in and struck up a conversation with the Sheriff and his buddies."

"Humph, struck up a conversation. Now, I know those boys and what you're trying to say, oh so delicately, is that they threw down the gauntlet and you accepted," Peg said her irritation clear.

Dean groaned at the reminder, "Damn, Bastards, set me up."

"What did they get you with, the anisette or the red?" Peg asked one brow raised in question.

Dean swallowed thickly before answering, "Both."

"It's a wonder you're still standing," Floss replied a bit of awe in her tone.

Sam glanced toward his brother unsure of what was going on. "Dean?"

"It was nothing, Sammy, just a test. I had it under control," Dean shut his eyes and clenched his jaw for a moment before continuing, "Though, I have to admit that homemade red wine's a killer."

"We pride ourselves on our wine, it might taste like crap, but it's got a kick," Floss said as she sent a sly glance toward Peg. "Doesn't it, Peg?"

Peg coolly ignored her younger sister, but Sam could have sworn he detected a slight blush making its way up her slim neck. He found himself momentarily distracted by the idea that the ever upright Peg might have a less than perfect past. Dean seemed to be on the verge of questioning Floss farther when Peg brought them all back to the subject at hand.

"Well, now that we've discussed your drinking habits I'd love to know what you found out."

Dean stared hard at the elderly ladies for a moment before he spoke, "They're keeping it quiet until the morning, but, they found the babe."

Sam closed his eyes for a moment, a shaft of sorrow piercing his chest. Though his brother hadn't spelled it out, Sam had no doubt what he was saying. The babe had been found, but not in time.

"Where?" Sam asked his only thought now to find the bastard that was responsible.

"A couple hundred yards from the back yard, she never stood a chance," Dean said as he met Sam's hard gaze.

Again, Sam heard what Dean left unsaid. Not only was the baby dead but she'd suffered. Swallowing, Sam ground out, "Leads?"

"Only one. The place was clean."

Sam stood and moved to the window. Placing his hands on the window sill, he found himself wishing they'd never come to Revere.

"Wait, I don't understand, if they found the baby then..." Floss's words trailed off as she grasped what Dean hadn't said. "Oh, no," she sighed softly.

Sam turned from the window only to meet Peg's steely gaze. If it was possible, the older woman looked even harder than she had only hours ago. He could see her determination grow right before his eyes as she considered all Dean had said and left unsaid.

"They're blaming it on Emma. They think that poor woman killed her own baby," her tone made it clear she wasn't asking, she already understood the situation.

"Yeah, well they've got pretty good reason," Dean said his own jaw tight with tension. "I don't know how much you know about your neighbor but the sheriff's not so far off base."

Peg sneered and said, "Oh, of course you'd side with him. I really expected better of you, Dean."

Sam stared in confusion as the two older siblings had a silent battle of wills. Their gazes locked, neither one seemed inclined to back down. It was Floss that finally broke through to both of them.

"Peg, he doesn't know. He's just a baby, he can't understand."

Peg blinked several times as if she was trying to regain her focus and stood. "Come on, Floss, let's get some sleep, we're going to need to get over there first thing. Evan shouldn't have to be alone."

Peg stood without another word and left the room. Floss stood and moved toward Dean. Reaching out, she cupped his chin gently and tilted his face up to meet her gaze. "You're a good man, Dean, and Peg knows it. It's why she asked you for help. Don't let the sheriff color your investigation. You owe it to Emma to decide on your own."

Floss smiled softly and left the room. Sam stood, arms folded and stared at his brother. Even in the soft light of the living room, Sam could see just how worn down he was. Moving over to Dean's side, Sam held out his hand, "Come on, let's get you to bed."

888

Dean awoke to the harsh sounds of Sam's coughing. With a grimace he stood and quickly pulled on a pair of jogging pants. He'd learned to keep a pair on the floor by the side of his bed for just such emergencies. It was only prudent after he'd had Floss catch him in his boxers one night when he'd gone downstairs for a glass of water for Sam.

"Sam, come on, Sammy." Dean stood up and moved to his brother's bed. Sam lay curled up on his side, his sides heaving as he tried to clear his lungs. Dean felt less panic than he had before simply because Sam's coughing was no longer a dry wheeze but a deep sounding rattle. It was obvious the infection in his lungs was at last beginning to break up. At this point a productive cough was a good thing.

After a moment of nearly continuous coughing, Sam at last got it under control. " 'm Okay," he said as he began to sit up.

Dean hooked a hand under his arm and helped the younger man into a seated position. He then set about getting Sam a glass of water. As he held out the glass to his brother he asked, "You wanna do another steam bath?"

Sam shook his head, "Naw, I'm okay. I actually think I'm getting better."

Dean nodded and settled back into his own bed. Leaning against the headboard he lay with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his stomach. Closing his eyes against the pain in his head, he agreed with his brother, "Yeah, I think you're starting to cough some of it out."

"You feeling all that wine, huh?"

Dean couldn't help but hear the snicker in his brother's voice. "Yeah, well laugh it up, Chuckles, next time someone has to take one for the team I'll make sure it's you."

"You kidding me, I know my limitations, Dean. I wouldn't have lasted past the anisette."

Dean grimaced and swallowed hard. "God, I hate that crap. Do you remember the last time we drank it?"

Sam's laugh was low and hoarse. "Remember? Hell, how could I forget? We stole it out of Bobby's liquor cabinet. I thought Dad was going to kill you."

Dean couldn't help but grin at the memory. It had been his eighteenth birthday and he'd wanted to celebrate it in style. Stuck at Bobby's on a job he'd snuck the bottle out of Bobby's stash and had talked Sam into tying one on with him. They'd ended up on Bobby's front end loader tearing up the salvage yard and singing the 'Pina Colada' song at the top of their lungs. Needless to say it was a birthday Dean would never forget. Every now and again when he was completely exasperated with the brothers, Bobby had a tendency to hum the song, drawing a blush from both him and Sam.

"She didn't do it, Dean. I know she didn't. Just meet her, that's all I'm saying. Just meet her and decide for yourself. If you do and you still think she's guilty I'll roll over."

Dean sat, eyes closed, and contemplated his brother's request. Though he had little doubt after talking to the sheriff that the woman was guilty he found he couldn't shoot his brother down. Sam was so hell bent on saving the world he'd forgotten that sometimes the world wasn't worth saving. "Okay, Sam. We'll keep diggin'."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Chapter Notes:

Hey thanks so much to all of you that are reading and those that take the time to review, it means so much. Enjoy - Kel

"I don't see why you won't go talk to Evan Thompson first. Why do we have to hit the morgue first," Sam pleaded.

"Because of that, right there, Sam. You're not thinking straight, if you want me to believe this is a 'case' then you have to act as if it were. We hear there's a mysterious death we go to the morgue and find out cause. That's hunter basics 101." Dean knew his brother feared what they would find at the morgue. Sam wanted Dean to become emotionally involved in the case before he learned the facts and Dean was having no part of it.

A child had died, an innocent, and someone needed to be held accountable. Normally, he'd walk as far away from this as he could, but if Sam was going to insist on staying then Dean was going to do what was right, not what was easier on his brother.

"Morgue first, Sam," Dean's voice brooked no argument.

He didn't need to look away from the road to know that his kid brother was sulking. Sam's brows would be furrowed, his lips drawn thin, and though his hands appeared to be simply resting on his knees, Dean knew he was probably pressing them against his leg.

Dean was more than familiar with all of Sam's numerous and varied tells, it's the main reason why Sam had never won a round of cards against his big brother. The kid was an open book.

"Fine," Sam said at last.

Content that Sam had fallen into line, at least for the moment, Dean slipped his sunglasses on and asked, "Good, then where are we headed?"

"There's no morgue, per say, here in town. I'm thinking that the baby's been taken to the clinic for now and upon the doctor's examination will most likely end up in the county morgue."

"Good, we'll pay a visit to the clinic, you can have the doc take a listen to your lungs, while I take a look at the babe," Dean said not bothering to hide his grimace at the idea of seeing the tiny infant.

"I don't need an exam, Dean. You said it yourself I'm getting better," Sam grumbled.

"Forget it, Sam. You won't be better till I sleep through a night. Besides it's a good opportunity for you to do some questioning. After all, Emma Thompson would have used that same clinic." Dean knew his brother couldn't deny his logic.

Sam's growl was evidence of that. "Fine, but I'm telling you I'm okay."

"Sure thing, and the fact that you spend half of every night doing your best to hack up a lung is nothing to worry about."

Sam's silence after Dean's comment wasn't unexpected. Dean was just glad he'd been able to talk his brother around so quickly, it allowed Dean at least ten minutes of quiet to try and banish the headache that was trying it's best to kill him.

888

"What?" Dean asked as Sam settled into the car beside him, an expectant look on his face.

"What do you think? What'd you find out?" Sam asked his voice tinged with irritation.

"It wasn't Emma Thompson," Dean blurted out refusing to look at his brother. He really didn't need to see Sam's smug smile.

Surprisingly, Sam blew out a breath. "Thank God."

Dean was surprised by the lack of self-righteousness. "What'd you find out?" Dean questioned certain that something was off with his brother.

"It doesn't look good, from what the secretary said they might actually have grounds for a case."

"Well, hell," Dean said. "That's gonna make our job ten-times harder. Whatever's out there sucked the baby dry and…" Here Dean hesitated for a moment before he said, "There were strips of skin missing."

Sam visibly blanched. "Ah, damn. So whatever we're looking for drinks blood, and what eats skin?"

"Got me, Geekboy, that's for you to figure out. I do know we can rule out vampires, there's no puncture marks and the skin removal looked almost surgical," Dean did his best to keep his voice even. There's no way he wanted Sam to realize how much the horror of what he'd seen affected him.

"Great, so not only do we have to stop whatever it is, but we have to convince the Sheriff that Emma didn't do it," Sam said his brow furrowed in thought.

"Seems like. So what'd you find out? Why's everyone so hoped up to watch this woman fry?"

Sam pulled his notebook from his pocket and read over the notes he'd made. "Basically, because forty years ago, Emma Thompson's mother, a woman named Sara Jane Stewart killed her four month old baby."

"Huh, forty years ago?" Dean asked, mulling over the implications.

"Yup, of course it's all gossip because Emma's mother then proceeded to commit suicide before the investigation could even begin. Hence, the big secret. The police figured it was a clear sign of remorse and filed the case as solved."

"So our brilliant sheriff figures like mother like daughter, huh?"

"Seems like most of the town's ready to convict also. Emma's mother and baby sister's death left a six year old Emma understandably traumatized, she's been plagued by depression and as a teen she was a bit wild. However, since she married Evan ten years ago she's been fine, she's been off all medications for the last seven years."

"Shit, Sam."

"Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I think we need to make a visit to Emma Thompson, she needs to know that someone believes her," Sam said.

Dean shook his head as he pulled into the sister's driveway. "No, I think we should wait till we have something to go on."

"We can't afford to wait, Dean, imagine what she must be thinking."

Dean didn't want to consider just what was running through Emma Thompson's mind. Still reeling from her child's death she was now being held for a crime she didn't commit. Not liking the corner it backed them into but unable to find another way out, Dean agreed. "Fine, but we don't tell her anything more than we have to. No need to give her the whole, 'truth is out there' speech."

Sam nodded in agreement as he climbed from the car. Once outside he waited a moment for Dean to join him before asking, "What do you want to tell the sisters?"

Dean shrugged as he led the way up the sidewalk. "No clue, but, whatever we say it's not going to include the truth."

888

Sam groaned in frustration as he started yet another search. The brothers had gotten back to the house in time to say goodbye to Peg and Floss, they were off to spell Evan Thompson so he could go visit his wife who had indeed been taken into custody earlier in the day.

"Anything, Sam?" Dean asked as he ran his hunting knife over a whetstone.

"Actually, it's a case of everything. I can tell you a hundred things it's not," Sam stood no longer able to sit still.

"Okay, so hit me with what it's not."

Sam turned to Dean in surprise. "Why bother I know what it's not."

"Humor me, Sam."

Sam snorted and dropped into his seat once more. "Fine."

"Well, I know it's not a Torto," Sam said, looking down at his list.

"Why?" Dean asked his hands moving confidently.

Sam knew that although his brother looked as if he was focused on sharpening his knife it was simply busy work for Dean's hands. Dean was too active to do his thinking behind a computer screen. In order for him to really concentrate he needed to move as he struggled with a problem. Fortunately, in their business there was always busy work that needed to be done. Today, by whatever calendar Dean lived by, he'd decided it was time for some sharpening. So, he'd gone to the trunk of the car and had brought up every sharp instrument they had, including the hatchet and was in the process of sharpening them.

"Why?" Sam asked confused as to what his brother was looking for.

"Why did you rule it out?"

"Oh, Well because it doesn't drink it's victims blood and it prefers older children."

"Okay, what's next?"

'It's not a Pugut, they eat the entire body not just the flesh," Sam supplied without Dean's prompting.

Dean waved a hand for Sam to continue and switched his hunting knife for a smaller throwing knife.

"Well, then there's the corpse eaters, example the Jikininki, I ruled them out because the baby was taken alive. Also, creatures like this, again, wouldn't only eat the skin." Sam turned to Dean and questioned, "It was only the skin right?"

Dean nodded and gestured for his brother to continue. "So no corpse eaters, and something that only eats the skin, Go on, Sam."

"Alright well, I also eliminated some blood drinkers. We know it's not a typical Vampire as there were none of the usual signs, but we can also rule out the Yara-ma-yha-who. He doesn't kill his victims and the Yasha would have had to fly into the room. Little chance that happened."

Dean nodded never looking up from the weapon in his hand, he asked, "What about a Katanes? Sharp teeth, blood sucker."

"Huh," Sam said as he quickly started a search. "The Algul or Katanes was an Arabian vampire," Sam said as he red the information before him. "No good, she inhabits cemeteries and eats only dead babies."

"Shit, okay keep going," Dean said as he continued to work. "Wait. What if it's not eating the skin? I mean why not a witch or something sacrificial…" Dean's voice trailed off.

"Huh," Sam said, "I guess it's possible, though most likely not a witch. Again access to the baby was limited. What if…" Sam began yet another search.

"Damn, I think I found it," Sam breathed at last as he read over the information on the screen in front of him.

Dean was up and by his side in a moment reading over Sam's shoulder. "Are you kidding me? I mean she's just a legend."

Sam looked up at his brother in disbelief. "Aren't they all just legends?"

Dean nodded in reluctant agreement. "Okay, so we got ourselves a lead. We're gonna need some topographical maps and I'm gonna sit down and have a talk with the girls."

"How come?" Sam asked. "I thought you didn't want to get them involved."

"Well, we searched the newspaper records and found nothing, I'm thinking it's more a job for the sisters. Let's face it, if this happened forty years ago then there's a good chance they know the details.

"You think?"

"Come on, Sam, no one takes a breath in this town that Floss and Peg don't know about it. If it happened before they'll be the ones to know. Plus, I've gotta wonder why Peg's taking this whole thing so seriously. Something's up and I'm thinking the old girls will have some answers."

"Alright then, we'll talk to the sisters first and then head over to see Emma Thompson," Sam said as he stared hard at his brother. He knew that Dean was hesitant to give false hope to the woman but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that if Emma wasn't given something to cling to, she might just decide to follow in her mother's footsteps.

"Fine, but I'm gonna need those maps by tonight, I need to start searching." Dean gathered up his coat in one hand and was half-way down the steps when he turned to Sam. "Oh, and a dead cat."

Sam groaned as he packed up his laptop and his notes and swung his bag over his shoulder, "I was afraid you were going to say that."

888

Dean entered the kitchen with Sam tight on his heels. One glance at the fresh pot of coffee that sat on the counter top and he had no doubt the sisters had returned. After he'd helped himself to a cup he joined Sam at the table. As expected they didn't have long to wait until the ladies found them.

Floss, of course, entered the kitchen and made a bee-line for the fridge. Ignoring Sam and Dean's assurances that they weren't hungry, she began pulling out ingredients. Peg came up from the basement only moments later, her grief lined face making her look her age for the first time since they'd arrived. Dean had a good idea of just what was causing Peg's distress and he hated the fact that he needed to pry into her life. Problem was he had no choice, she was his only source of information.

Never one to beat around the bush, Dean dove right in. "Why didn't you tell us that Sara Jane Stewart, Emma Thompson's mother, was thought to have killed her baby and herself?"

Peg sunk into a seat her hands gripped in front of her as Floss moved to stand at her shoulder. It was Floss that answered, "Because she was innocent, because we knew you'd be told soon enough."

Dean nodded conscious of Sam's questioning glance. Sam was keeping his comments to himself, but he was obviously wondering about Dean's train of thought. Oh, well, he'd find out soon enough. "Sara Jane's baby wasn't the only one to go missing that year, was it?"

Again, it was Floss that answered, "No, the Wilson's baby and the Riley's baby also went missing."

Sam's eyebrows disappeared under his heavy bangs in surprise as he asked, "Wait? What? Why wasn't it in the paper? I mean it was 1967 there should have been some mention of it."

Floss waved a hand and sneered. "Why put something in print when you so conveniently find the criminal?"

"What do you mean?"

"Bernard Shaw," Floss said as she turned toward the stove.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances. "Who was Bernard Shaw?"

"Bernard Shaw was the innocent man that was set up to take the fall for both babies' disappearances," Peg said her voice sharp with anger. "He died, not surprisingly, before he could either be convicted or tell the police of the location of the bodies."

"Wow, does anyone in this town live to enter a courtroom?" Dean asked.

Peg grimaced at Dean's words but continued with her story. "Bernard Shaw was a bum, he rode the railroads. Every spring he'd end up here in Revere. He would spend some time working odd jobs before he would move on again. He used to stay up in the hills, the area's littered with natural caves, and would come down for work or to have a couple beers down at Allegro's."

"Bernie, used to do odd jobs here at the house for us. You know the usual stuff, he'd paint the porch, till the garden, that kind of thing. We were probably closer to him than anyone else in town," Floss took a bowl down from the cabinet above her and expertly began cracking eggs in it. "Bernie was a bum, but he was a good man, always very polite, always eager to help."

"He was…a bit slow. Not retarded just very slow in thought and speech. I once heard my father say he'd served in World War II and had been injured. No one was sure if that's what caused his impediment or not, but it was a likely explanation," Peg reached out and snagged a cookie off the plate that sat at the table. As she spoke she crumbled the treat in her hands. "Bernie was a black man, a stranger, and a bum. When the Wilson's baby went missing, he'd been doing some work on their house. Bernie became the prime suspect."

Floss was now beating the eggs with a whisk, her hand was moving so fast, Dean had trouble keeping up with it. "Bernie ran for the hills. Convinced that he wouldn't get a fair trial he took to the caves he'd been living in. Several of the local men were deputized and a hunt ensued. During the search the Riley's babe went missing."

"Well, you can imagine the town. Everyone was certain he'd done it, no one bothered to look for another suspect. The manhunt doubled, and before you know it, Bernie was cornered in a cave and shot on sight. The man that did the shooting claimed that Bernie was armed but no weapon was ever found on the scene." Peg looked up, her gaze fierce. "Bernie, did not take those children. They shot and killed an innocent man."

Dean nodded and replied, "I believe you. Now, what about the Stewart baby, Emma's little sister?"

Peg stared hard at Dean as if weighing his sincerity, at last she said, "Similar to Emma's little Sara, the baby was found in the woods about a month after Bernard Shaw was killed. I'd heard rumors that the baby had been badly treated but nothing more than that. Sara Jane was a very good friend of mine, the loss of her child was more than she could bear. Then to have the very people she leaned on in a time of trouble turn on her and accuse her of taking her own child's life, well it was just too much for her. She overdosed only hours before the sheriff was slated to bring her into the station."

"Why didn't anyone ever consider that the three babies were linked in some way?" Sam asked his tone low and soothing.

"What and admit they shot a man out of ignorance and bigotry? No way. Nope they had their murderers and that was enough for the town. No one wanted to dig deeper. Mothers became more vigilant and after there were no more occurrences everyone just stopped thinking about it," Floss said as she placed a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Dean. "Eat something, it'll help with the hangover."

"So we've got three victims in 1967 and one now," Sam said turning toward his brother.

"Seems like, and they've all gone missing or were killed in or around the foothills," Dean said as he moved his eggs around with his fork. His appetite had yet to return after last night's bender.

Floss reached out and slapped Dean's hand. "Stop playing with those eggs and eat. You too Sam, you boys are too thin to be passing up food."

Dean watched as Sam, with a typical eye roll, picked up his fork and began eating the scrambled eggs. As Dean followed suit a thought occurred to him. "Do you know where the cave Bernard Shaw used to stay in is located?"

Peg nodded as she began to carefully wipe up the cookie crumbs she'd left on the table top. "I do, our Father was always very sympathetic to Bernard. As dad got older he was unable to make the trip up into the caves to check up on Bernie so sometimes either Floss or I would go."

Dean took another bite of his eggs happy to see he actually was feeling better. "If I got you a map could you mark the area?"

"Of course, but I don't understand what all this has to do with Emma's baby? I mean even if Bernard Shaw was somehow guilty he's been dead for thirty years," Floss asked as she took a seat at the table.

Dean met Sam's gaze and waited.

At last Sam answered, "We've got to have all the facts before we come to any conclusions."

Sam's voice was so calm and reasonable that Dean himself was reassured. As he ate the last of the eggs he had to give thanks that his brother's doe eyes seemed to work on others as well as himself. Certain he was in for a long night Dean stood and poured himself another cup of coffee.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Chapter Notes:**

**Hope you enjoy and thanks for the wonderful support. ;) Kel**

888

"Damn, that thing's ripe," Dean said waving one hand in front of his face and gesturing toward the bag that was intended for bait that Sam held in his hand.

Sam grimaced and held the trash bag a little farther from his body. "Yeah, well, unfortunately for us, the riper the better."

"Not us," Dean said as he double-checked the contents of the Impala's trunk.

Sam gingerly tied a knot in the top of the bag and placed it in the trunk. "'Not us' what?" he said as he watched his brother check their ammo.

Dean, satisfied at last that everything was ready to go, slammed the trunk shut and turned to face his brother. He knew Sam wouldn't like his next words but to be honest he didn't give a crap. Sam's cough was far from over and Dean wasn't about to risk it getting worse.

Deciding that a good offense was best, Dean answered, "'Not us what', what?"

Sam snorted and rolled his eyes. "You said, 'Not us'. What did you mean 'Not us'?"

Dean kept his expression deadpanned as he replied, "You said 'Not us', Sam. Just now. You said-"

Sam interrupted, his face nearly purple in color. "Don't say it. Don't say 'Not us", just don't."

Dean held up his hand and shrugged. "Fine, Dude, whatever." Hoping that his interrogation was over, Dean turned and started up the steps toward the house. He knew he wouldn't be able to put Sam off forever but he was hoping for a more public forum before his brother went off. At least then Dean was confident that Sam would be hampered in his argument.

Though he had his back to him, Dean would put money down on the fact that his brother was still standing by the Impala a look of absolute and complete irritation on his face, a face that Dean was overly familiar with. Baiting Sam was pretty high on his list of fun things to do. Dean counted it a good day if he managed to get the vein in Sam's forehead to pulse in anger. He figured it did the boy good to get his back up every now and again.

Confident his brother would follow, Dean headed into the Mabel sisters basement. His intention was to head out within the hour. Hopefully he'd be doing this on a full stomach. From the smells emanating from the first floor he figured it shouldn't be an issue.

Near as Sam had been able to learn there were at least three different caves that were of interest. Dean figured he'd need roughly nine hours of sunshine to hit all three. He really had no interest in stumbling across this thing in the dark.

"Dean, Dean, stop."

Dean knew he had little choice but to stop. Sam would only be deterred so long before he well and truly lost his temper. Coming to a halt just inside the basement, Dean turned and faced the inevitable. "What, Sam?" he questioned, though he had little doubt what his brother wanted.

"You don't actually believe you're going alone to search those caves," Sam asked with a glower on his face.

With an inward grimace and an outward shrug Dean said, "Course I am. You don't actually believe I'm gonna let you go with me?"

Sam held out his arms and said, "I'm coming with you, Dean. You can't go off and hunt this thing yourself. That's insane."

"No, I'll tell you what's insane," Dean said as his earlier calm evaporated. "What's insane is for you to think you're going with me. You're staying, Sam. You wanna help, you can figure out a way to kill it."

"So what? I'm supposed to just sit home with the old ladies and-"

Dean took a breath ready to interrupt. Sam's voice cut him off, "Don't, don't you dare say it."

Dean snapped his mouth shut with an audible click.

"I'm fine, I'm going," Sam said. He stood arms crossed, his brows were lowered and his lips were drawn tight.

Dean sighed and threw up his hands. "Fine, you want to go?"

"Yes," Sam said a self-satisfied look on his face.

Dean crossed his arms and jingled the keys in his hands. "You can go with me. All you have to do is take a deep breath. You do that without coughing and I'll even let you drive."

Dean could read his brother like an open book and he knew at the moment Sam was considering his challenge. The catch was, as both brothers were well aware, Dean had laid down the one challenge Sam couldn't match.

"I don't have to prove myself to you," Sam said his pout becoming full-fledged.

"Yeah, well the thing is, you do. See you're gonna have my back in that cave and I have to know that run or fight you can handle it. So, come on now, just one deep breath."

As expected, Sam gave it the old college try. Standing there with his arms crossed, he drew in a breath. Sam's face lit up as the air entered his lungs and was expelled without a cough to be heard.

Dean tossed his keys in the air and caught them with ease as he watched Sam's face go from uneasy to confident. Sorry to have to burst his bubble, Dean said, "I said a breath, Sam. I mean it. Draw it in deep or it's a no-go."

A muscle in Sam's jaw ticked as he said, "You're just trying to stop me from going, Dean. I told you I'm-"

Sam's own words were cut off as a deep hacking cough burst out of him. Dean went to his side and slipped his arm around Sam's waist. He led his brother to a nearby chair and got him seated. As soon as Sam was supported he bent forward at the waist obviously struggling to draw breath into his abused chest.

Dean winced in sympathy. He could only imagine just how much it must hurt to cough like that, not to mention the feeling of panic that had to accompany the spasm. Unable to draw a true breath Sam's lips began to take on a blue cast as his cough continued.

"What happened?" Peg questioned as she appeared at Dean's elbow a cup of hot tea in her hands.

"He just started and can't seem to stop," Dean answered as he contemplated just how he'd manage to get his six foot five brother up two flights of stairs to the upstairs bathroom for a little steam therapy.

Peg withdrew a small blue vial from her pocket and unscrewed the lid. She stepped up to Sam and spoke softly, "Here, Sam, this'll help. Just take small breaths." As she thrust the small vial under Sam's nose she patted him gently on the back uttering nonsense words.

To Dean's surprise in a matter of minutes the coughing had eased and Sam was taking small shallow breaths. He could now see that the jar that Peg held was filled with vapor rub. Dean handed his brother the tea, certain that Sam would be grateful for the soothing liquid.

"Rub some of that on his chest, Peg. It'll help ease his breathing for a while," Floss said as she came down the basement steps.

Sam who'd yet to say anything began to struggle as Peg reached out for the buttons on his shirt. So weak were his attempts to bat away the older woman's hands that Dean took pity on his brother and shouldered Peg out of his way.

"We got it, Peg. I'm gonna get him settled upstairs then you can fuss," Dean said as he grinned at his brother's grateful look.

"Let's go, sasquatch, let's get you back to bed."

The fit had taken more out of Sam than Dean had realized. His baby brother was leaning heavily on Dean, his breathing was shallow, and he had a worrisome rattle in his chest. The long climb up the stairs convinced Dean that Sam accompanying him to the caves wouldn't be a problem. In fact, as they reached the kitchen Dean became more concerned that he would be accompanying his brother to the hospital.

Through the kitchen they went, Sam hobbling along at a snail's pace. It was just as they reached the foyer that his brother balked.

"Come on, Sam. Help me out here, man, you're frickin' heavy as hell," Dean pleaded, trying to urge his brother on.

Sam shook his head and pulled away. "No," he rasped. "The couch, just get me to the couch."

The pitiful look on his brother's face is the only thing that stopped Dean from arguing. He knew that forcing Sam upstairs would only make things worse and waste time they didn't have. Besides on the bright side, if the ambulance was called it would be much less work for the EMT's to get to him if he was on the couch.

"Alright, kiddo, if it's the couch you want," Dean said as he practically dragged Sam toward the floral print couch. At the last minute he veered toward the matching recliner, figuring Sam would breathe easier if he wasn't lying flat. Once he had his brother settled he pulled the little blue jar from his pocket and held it out to him. "Alright, Sam, either you can put this crap on or I will. What's it gonna be?"

Sam rolled his eyes and made a big show of annoyance as he reached out for the jar. Dean really couldn't give a crap what kind of stink the stuff made if it eased Sam's breathing that's all that mattered to him. As his brother proceeded to rub the cloudy gel on his chest, Dean couldn't help but wrinkle his nose at the strong menthol smell. Within minutes he had Sam tucked in and was handing his kid brother his mug of now lukewarm tea. Both sisters were hovering in the background just waiting for Dean to move out of the way so they could get to their patient.

"Dean," Sam croaked gestured for his brother to lean in, "Get out of here. You've got places to go."

Dean shook his head and said, "No way. I'm not leaving you here like this."

Sam waved a hand and jerked his head toward the sisters. "I'm fine, Dean. Really. If you don't do this we run the risk of losing another baby. You have to go," he said his whisper barely audible.

Dean studied his brother for a moment before he nodded at last. "Yeah, alright, but the cell's on. I'm gonna have Peg call me if you get worse. And I don't want you moving from that chair you got me." Dean held his brother's gaze until Sam at last nodded his agreement.

"Fine, but you're on recon only, Dean. Just find this thing and get back here. We still don't know how to kill it and I'm not gonna have you playing games with it until we do," Sam's voice brooked no argument.

Dean nodded and said, "No worries, I'm not looking at going up against this thing without knowing what'll kill it."

888

Within a half-hour Dean had grabbed a bite to eat, and was in the Impala, and headed for his first search. Sam had done his homework, well hell, Sam always did his homework so really it was unsurprising. The three caves in question were located only a short distance away. There was a stone access road that passed within two miles of the first cave, so that was Dean's stopping point. His plan, weak as it was, was to check out the cave closest to the road first. If Peg's memory could be trusted that was the one in which Bernard Shaw had lived whenever in town. The next cave in line, it was really more of just an outcropping of rock, is where Bernard had been hiding when he was shot. The third cave was an unknown. Up until he'd shown the Mabel sisters the map, they hadn't even been aware of it's existence. Dean was putting his money on that third cave. Unless of course there were more, which Sam had thought pretty likely given the mountainous terrain.

As he turned off onto the access road, Dean couldn't help but wince as his baby kicked up stones. Jobs like this made him wish he still had their father's pick-up. The Impala was game, it just wasn't made for roads like this. He kept careful watch of is odometer until he judged that he'd gone roughly six miles, at that point he nosed the big black car as far off to the right as possible.

It took only moments for him to gather his duffle, lock up the car, and be on his way. As much as he hated hiking, and he really hated hiking, it was good to be out and moving. The last couple of week's inactivity had left him feeling antsy. The hike through the woods and the challenge of finding this thing were a welcome distraction.

He'd been hiking for over an hour when he found the terrain becoming more and more rocky. Peg had warned him that the trail would grow rougher as he went. Within minutes, the forest around him became less dense, the boulders he'd glimpsed earlier became more and more pronounced jutting out of the ground. The huge slabs of rock were so large he was now walking across more rock than dirt. At last he saw the opening to the first cave.

Dean dropped to one knee and began to rifle through the bag he'd brought. He drew out the black plastic bag he'd gotten out of the trunk earlier and double checked his handgun. Careful to stay alert to his surroundings, he unknotted the bag. The smell that emanated from the trash bag immediately set his eyes to watering.

"God, my job sucks," he said as he stood and faced the cave. He was pretty sure there was no need to actually remove the rotted corpse of the dead cat from the bag. Sam had assured him that it was the stench of decay that would attract their prey and Dean had to say he was pretty grateful for that one small favor.

Eyes watering, he headed toward the mouth of the cave his eyes trained on his surroundings. Though he could see nothing that screamed crazy baby eater, that didn't mean the cave was empty.

888

Dean dropped to the rock with a sigh and quickly put a knot in the trash bag he held. He'd long ago become immune to the smell but even a glimpse of the stiff rotting cat carcass had him gagging. As he sat he shrugged off his jacket and fished out a bottle of water. As the day had progressed he'd grown warmer and warmer. Now here in the shaft of sunlight that penetrated the woods he was actually hot. Not that he trusted it, he had no doubt once the afternoon sun began to wane, he'd start to feel the cold once more. For now, though, with two caves searched and another long hike in front of him he figured he deserved a bit of sun.

So far, both caves had been a bust. The first, Bernard Shaw's old hideout had sported evidence of use. Dean had found a stack of firewood and a fire ring that still appeared to be in good shape. The cave boasted a stone floor and was only about forty feet deep, it looked as if it might have once been part of a tunnel but the corridor had long since caved in.

The second cave had been the one that Shaw was killed in. Dean had no trouble locating just where the vagabond had died. The dark rust colored stain had seeped into the floor leaving a permanent shrine to the dead man. This cave had been nothing more than a couple of collapsed boulders that formed a teepee of sorts. Only about twenty feet round, the only good thing about the space was the entrance was hard to see unless you were looking for it.

Dean pulled out his map, double-checked his location and where he was headed next. The way he figured it he had enough time to get to the third cave, check it out, and get back to the car before night fell. It would be cutting it close but he should make it without a problem. Dean gained his feet, slung his bag back over his shoulder, and started off. Earlier he'd almost enjoyed the hike through the woods, now however, he just wanted to be back on pavement once more.

888

"I'm going to see if Sam needs anything," Floss said as she stood up from the kitchen chair and moved toward the doorway.

Peg never looked up from the checkbook she was working on. "I wouldn't if I were you."

Floss waved a hand toward her sister and said, "It's Sam, I'm sure he'll appreciate a little nibble or something hot to drink.

As Floss left the room, Peg finally looked up. It took only a heartbeat for her sister to return to the kitchen her face flushed in embarrassment. Peg snorted, she was unsurprised that the younger Winchester wasn't in the mood to be fussed over. Ever since Dean had left this morning, Sam had been worse than a lion with a splinter in his paw. At first, he had tolerated the sisters with barely concealed irritation but as the afternoon progressed his good manners were going downhill fast. She knew he was concerned about his brother. It was obvious that wherever Dean had gone it was a dangerous assignment and one that Sam felt he shouldn't be alone in undertaking.

Near as Peg could tell, Dean had checked in three times, the last being four hours ago. Ever since that call, Sam's irritability had gone through the roof and the ever darkening sky had done nothing to lighten the young man's mood. Peg had been careful to stay out of the shaggy haired youth's way. She had no interest in stumbling into his line of fire, unfortunately her sister had yet to learn that lesson. For some strange reason Floss seemed to think that Sam was the easygoing one. Peg could have set her straight but really what would be the fun in that.

"Did he bite your head off?" Peg questioned already certain of the answer.

Floss flushed slightly and turned toward the fridge, obviously intending to cook something. Peg's sister had the unfortunate hobby of cooking whenever her nerves were overset, and it was obvious she was upset now. "What are you up to now?" Peg questioned as she watched Floss remove ingredients from the fridge.

"I'm going to make lasagna. Dean'll appreciate it when he gets home tonight. In fact," Floss fluttered about the kitchen a bit more, "I'm going to make a double batch and freeze one."

Peg couldn't help but smile as she watched Floss pull together her ingredients. She had little doubt that Dean would enjoy anything Floss made. The older man seemed bound and determined to eat everything in his path before leaving their little inn. Lucky for him, Floss seemed intent on feeding him every dish she'd ever made before he left. It was, what you would call, a win-win situation.

Happy to leave her sister to her cooking and Sam to his brooding, Peg returned her attention to balancing her checkbook. Grateful that she was so unflappable, she refused to acknowledge the way her eyes kept returning to the kitchen window and the nearly dark evening sky.

888

Sam sat in his chair and watched as the final light of the day seeped out of the sky. No longer could he pretend that everything was all right. His brother had called over four hours ago to let Sam know he was nearing the final cave. Given the time it would take to check out the cave and return to the Impala, Dean had assumed he'd have no problem reaching the car before dark. Strain as he might, Sam could hear no trace of the Chevy's big block engine. That, plus the fact that his brother's cell phone, which up until now had been working fine, was suddenly dumping his calls into his voice mail was enough to make Sam want to scream. The only problem was if he drew in more than a slight breath he set off coughing again.

Sam's gaze strayed toward the window once more. There was no way that Dean Winchester was over an hour late and wouldn't check in, especially when he had left Sam hacking up his lungs. Sam shook his head, one hour, he vowed to himself, one more hour and, cold be damned, he was heading out.


	7. Chapter 7

"Sam?" Floss called, her voice raised in surprise.

Sam turned from the bag he was packing to face the sisters who stood at the foot of Dean's bed. "What?" he asked not bothering to soften his tone. Dean had now been gone for nearly six hours, in Sam's book that was five hours too many.

"What are you doing? You should be lying down."

Sam tamped down his impatience and drew a deep breath. As anxious as he was to be on the road he wasn't able to ignore the sisters and their concern. "I'm going after him. He's been gone too long, something's wrong."

Peg asked the next question, "I thought he was following a lead?" The skepticism in her voice made it clear she hadn't completely believed their earlier tale. The older woman stood by her sister's side her arms wrapped around her waist and a scowl on her face.

"He is," Sam answered shortly. "But he's been gone too long, something's wrong."

Sam slid the zipper home on his bag and smothered a cough. His chest still ached from his earlier attack. He was hoping to control the tickle he felt at the back of his throat at least until he could get himself in the car and out of from under the sisters' sharp gaze.

"We think the deaths have something to do with the caves. Dean was headed out that way to check them out," Sam's voice wavered with worry. Something was wrong, he could feel it in his chest. The aching pain had nothing to do with his illness and everything to do with the fact that he'd allowed his brother to go off on his own without backup. Not that he could have done much, seeing as he'd been occupied just trying to keep from passing out while Dean slipped out the door.

"But what could the caves possibly have to do with it? Few people even remember them, and those that do would never hurt the Thompson baby," Peg stated.

He shifted in weariness as both sisters looked at him expectantly. Normally, he would weave some stupid tale that would make little sense and would only give him enough time to get out of Dodge, but in this case, when faced with Floss' earnest expression and Peg's silent concern he found himself at a loss.

Sam took one more last glance around the cozy attic space he'd been sharing with Dean and mentally said goodbye. He found he wasn't willing to lie to the sisters and he had no doubt after hearing the truth he wouldn't be welcomed back.

"It's wasn't a person that killed that child," Sam stated in a rush. He turned and headed for the attic steps. He figured he'd be better off near an exit when he finally blurted out the truth.

"Not a person. You mean it's some kind of animal?" Peg questioned her tone making it clear she found it hard to believe.

Sam blew out a breath in frustration and immediately regretted it. The band that seemed permanently wrapped around his chest tightened. "Not an animal. Dean and I told you the truth, we do travel about the country investigating deaths, but..."

Here he trailed off, unsure of how best to explain. Both ladies looked expectantly at him, well no actually, their expressions seemed a bit more wary than anything else. Sam rocked back on his heels before at last blurting, "We think it's something else."

If Sam hadn't been watching the sisters as closely as he was he would have missed it. It wasn't much, just a moment's glance between the two older woman that seemed out of place with their exclamations.

"What else could it be?"

"What do you mean something else?"

The sound of the sister's overlapping voices nearly did Sam in. His head had begun pounding about an hour ago and the idea that he was now wasting precious time only exasperated the problem. The only thing that stopped him from walking out the door and leaving their questions behind was the slim chance that they might be of use.

At the twin looks of confusion on the sisters' faces, Sam decided he needed to go on the offensive. Taking a page out of Dean Winchester's 'guide to avoidance' handbook, Sam ignored their questions and countered, "What?"

Floss' mouth snapped shut at his question and she again glanced toward her older sister. Sam wasn't sure if Peg was better at hiding her emotions or if she simply knew nothing and he had blown the whole thing out of proportion. He didn't think so though, in fact, the more he watched Floss the more he felt as if he were right on the money.

On a roll, Sam decided to try to coerce the sisters. His father, an expert in intimidation, had often applied the same technique to wring the truth from a much younger Sam, usually to Dean's detriment. Careful to keep Floss in his peripheral vision, Sam stared hard at Peg and bluffed.

"I saw the look, Peg, you know something," he stated, careful to maintain eye contact. He knew he couldn't afford to flinch, Peg was a tough old bird and not one to give in easily. However, the more he considered their exchange the more it seemed as if his suspicions might prove right.

As he kept track of Floss' expression, Sam knew she was about to blurt out something. Though the younger sister was obviously taking her lead from the elder, she couldn't seem to pull off Peg's composed expression. Sam had no problem recognizing the signs, after all he was a younger sibling and had always been the first to break under pressure.

John had known just how to handle his sons. Question Dean and you ran headfirst into his poker face. As far back as Sam could remember, the only clues his brother let drop were the ones he wanted you to see. Otherwise, Dean was a wall when it came to emotions. Though it had taken him a while, John had finally realized that if he kept his attention seemingly on Dean, Sam would unintentionally give himself away.

Deciding to up the ante, Sam threw in his own secret weapon. Maintaining eye contact with Peg, he allowed every last bit of emotion he was feeling to flood his eyes. "That's my brother out there he's-"

"It has a blue face," Floss said, her words tumbling from her lips in a rush.

Jackpot, Sam thought as he focused more fully on the younger Mabel sister. "A blue face?"

"Floss, hush, Emma was beside herself you can't believe anything she said," Peg scolded.

Sam actually closed his eyes in relief at the mention of a blue face. Dean's guess that they were dealing with a Black Annis had been more feeling than actual proof and in Sam's eyes doubt had remained. Now, however, hearing his brother's suspicions being confirmed, even if the one's that did the seeing didn't believe their own eyes, was a godsend.

"Floss, what did Emma see?" Sam questioned the round-faced woman, as he took two steps towards her.

Sam struggled not to shake answers out of the woman before him. Every moment he was away from his brother only added to the weight in his chest. "Please, Floss."

This time their was no doubt in Sam's mind that the sisters exchanged a look. In fact, Peg nodded for her sister to continue.

Floss prefaced her story with, "No one believes her, but, Emma claims she saw something the night her baby was taken."

"What, Floss, what did she see?"

"Around midnight she thought she heard Kitten crying. She went outside to look for the poor thing and-"

"This was the night that the baby was taken, you're sure of it?" Sam interrupted. At Peg's confirming nod, Sam prompted Floss, "So she was outside looking for a kitten..."

"No she wasn't looking for a kitten, she was looking for their cat, Kitten, see the poor thing had-"

"Floss," Peg snapped reminding the younger woman to stay on track.

Floss waved a hand and apologized, "Sorry, where was I?"

"Emma was outside," Peg offered.

Floss nodded as she dropped to the bed. "Emma was outside in the backyard looking for the cat. After a while she felt uneasy, as if someone were watching her. She glanced around but could see no one."

Sam watched as Floss wrung her hands. It was obvious the older woman was expecting Sam to burst out laughing. He could only imagine that was most likely what the sheriff had done when Emma had gone to him with her tale. Little did the two women before him know that stories like this one were the bred and butter of his job.

"Anyway, she turned back toward the house. As she approached the glass of the French doors that led inside, she saw a reflection in the glass."

Here Floss faltered once more, a pleading glance toward Peg had the older woman taking up the reins of the story.

"She saw a person reflected in the glass," Peg stated as she studied Sam for a reaction.

Sam wasn't sure what they expected but he was fairly sure they didn't expect to hear him confirm the accused killers description. "It was a woman, right? Hunched over, her fingers brushing the ground, her blue face covered by stringy hair?"

Peg started at Sam's spot on description, at last she nodded. "Emma claims she blinked and the woman was gone. The Sheriff, of course, discounted the statement claiming that Emma was out of her mind and couldn't be relied upon."

Floss studied Sam for a moment before bursting out, "You believe her, you really do think she saw something."

Sam nodded and headed down the steps. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "Dean and I are sure of it, that's why he went to the caves."

"But Black Annie is just a legend?" Peg said her voice full of skepticism as she followed him down the steps.

Sam nearly stumbled at her words. Pulling himself up short on the second floor, he turned to face the older woman who stood right behind him. He could hear Floss making her way down the steps at a slightly slower pace. "What do you know about Black Annis?" Sam questioned the older woman no longer bothering to temper his emotions. Dean was out there facing this thing and the sisters had known about it all along.

Peg's look of confusion was no doubt genuine. "Black Annis, nothing. Black Annie, was a tale my grandmother used to spin. She used to talk about a blue-faced old crone that would steal you away if you misbehaved."

Sam wasn't sure what the older woman saw in his expression but she shook her head. "It's just an old wives-tale. I mean she used to talk about fairies and sprites also."

Sam ignored the questions he could see in Peg's eyes and made for the main floor. Now, more than ever, the need to reach his brother was stealing his breath. Not even the fact that Dean had been right could ease his anxiety. According to the elder Winchester, Black Annis, or Black Agnus as she was sometimes referred to, was an English legend.

The story suggested that a woman inhabited a cave in the low-lying Dane hills on the outskirts of Leicester. Blue of face, with long claws, the woman would reach through windows to steal small children and babies. Many different versions of the story existed, but all agreed the woman lived in a cave, drank the blood of her victims and removed their skin. The strips of skin were then, depending on the story, either worn around her waist as a skirt or draped from a tree that grew nearby her cave.

How the English legend made it to the states Sam wasn't sure. He assumed that like a Wendigo the woman had once been human, and that consuming the flesh and blood of children had changed her into something more. How much more, Sam didn't know, but it didn't bode well for his brother. Dean had gone in fully prepared to destroy the creature with fire, but he had promised Sam he would stick to recon unless pushed.

Now something had gone wrong, of that Sam was sure. Luckily, he'd bought copies of the topography maps he'd picked up yesterday, so he had a basic idea of where Dean should be. Last he'd heard, his brother had inspected two of the three caves giving Sam something to work with. Now he just needed to get out there.

Not bothering to turn around, Sam spoke to the woman he knew had followed him down to the kitchen, "I need the car." He was more than prepared to take what he needed but he hated the idea of it.

The band that seemed wrapped around Sam's chest eased slightly as he heard the familiar sound of keys. Slowly he turned and faced Peg and Floss. Floss held out the keys, her face etched with concern. "Just go find him. We'll be waiting."

Sam nodded as he accepted the keys, and said, "I'll bring him back."

888

"Fuck," Dean exclaimed as he looked up at the ever-darkening sky. He hated the helpless feeling that coursed through him. He wasn't afraid of the dark, in fact he'd spent the better part of his life in the dark. It was the lack of weapons and the fact that he was trapped that was causing his anxiety. Out in the open with a shotgun in his hand, he could move through the night as if it were day, but stuck in this damn hole, without even his knife for protection, that was a different story.

Not that the weapons would do him much good right now, they wouldn't help him to scale his way up the sides of the muddy pit he was in, and they'd be no use against the old crone, but at least they'd make him feel better. Hell, shooting anything right now would make him fell better.

He still couldn't believe what a ridiculous situation he'd gotten himself into. Two caves down and no sign of trouble had him cruising through the forest toward the third. Rather than focusing on the job at hand his mind had been on his brother and sound of Sam's labored breathing when he'd checked in with him earlier. That's when he'd spotted a flash of color behind a stand of trees. Certain there was nothing natural about the bright bit of blue he'd spotted Dean had taken cover.

Careful to stay hidden he'd watched the ancient woman hobble through the trees, her long claw-like hands dragging through the leaves, sticks and mud that made up the forest floor. So hunched she appeared to be bent in half, her long straggly hair hung in her face leaving Dean only glimpses of the bold blue color of her skin.

Dean had moved out, hiking his bag higher on his shoulder, he'd followed the woman deeper into the forest. Never once did he consider that the hag was leading him on. Dean punched his fist into the earthen wall he leaned against cursing his own stupidity. Not until he had plunged through the ground, his free-fall coming to an end with a grunt as he landed in face down in a mass of mud and debris, had he recognized the trap for what it was.

The hole in the ground had been well concealed, the opening covered with sticks and leaves. Straight sided with no handholds to speak of the pit must have been over ten feet deep. Try as he might, Dean had been unable to escape, even worse night had begun to fall and darkness had closed over him. A thorough search of the bottom of his dirt cell hadn't revealed the location of his bag. It had however turned up a variety of bones and even the corpse of what appeared to be a raccoon. As an added bonus, because really things didn't stink enough, he'd somehow managed to bring the cat carcass into the hole with him.

Dean rose to his feet again, the black mud sucking at this clothes and body. He had to admit that he'd give just about anything for a hot shower and some of Sam's bitchin'. What made Dean's fuck-up seem even worse was the fact that now Sam was going to have to bail him out. A challenge that Sam really wasn't up for, especially if that blue-faced bitch was still in the area.

888

Sam reached the Impala quicker than he could have hoped. If only his luck held and he would find his brother just as easily. He carefully eased the car next to the big black machine and gathered his supplies. According to the map, the cave his brother had disappeared near was the farthest away, of course it was, he thought as he smothered a cough. Determined to find Dean, Sam set out at a slow jog.

It was nearly two hours later when Sam realized that his slow jog had become little more than a walk. The wet sounding rattle in his chest was becoming more pronounced and he was battling waves of dizziness. The only reason he was able to continue putting one foot in front of the other was the fact that his brother was counting on him. That and that alone kept him moving.

Sam's one bit of luck had been the trail Dean had left. Unconcerned with being followed, Dean had left a clear path through the forest floor that Sam easily picked out with the flashlight. It was a good thing, because Sam had little doubt he'd manage to find the cave on his own. Hell, at the moment he was fairly sure he couldn't find his way back to the car even if he wanted to.

The forest Sam was trekking through was typical for the area, the large boulders that littered the ground were becoming more and more numerous. One of Sam's concerns was the fact that once he ran out of earthen ground he'd lose his trail. The rock formations that loomed pale and grey in the light of the moon wouldn't hold footprints like the soft loamy ground of the forest floor.

Inevitably, the trees fell behind him and the boulders began to overlap until the forest floor was no more. Sam stopped and glanced about hoping to find some sign to indicate the direction his brother had taken. Sometime during his hike the full moon had gained the night sky and the shadows the light produced only added to the confusion of the night. Sam dropped to the hard stone with a sigh, drawing his bag to him he pulled out his map. For a moment, he found himself unable to do more than try not to pass out as he began to cough. His back, chest and abdomen felt on fire from the spasms. At last, the coughing petered off, leaving him breathless and weak.

Sam lay on his side, his knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his knees. The cold damp of the stone felt good against his cheek, though his body shivered from the contact. He needed to get up, he needed to get moving, he needed to get to Dean. The only problem was in order to do all of those things he needed the world to stop spinning.

888

Dean wedged the toe of his boot into the black earth a bit more. Carefully he eased his weight onto that foot, allowing him to rest his arms for a moment. It had taken him at least a half-hour and six tries but he'd finally managed to make it more than halfway up the wall of the hole. Problem was as he glanced up toward the night sky he couldn't help but measure the distance he had left. There really was little chance he'd be able to make the last five feet but he had to try. Sitting around waiting for Sammy to find him really wasn't his style. He needed to do something and given the state of the pit below climbing out to his freedom had seemed a viable option.

Despite the ache in his shoulders, Dean reached up his left hand and dug into the moist earth searching for a solid handhold. Once he was as secure as he could make himself, he lifted his right leg up and toed his boot into the earthen wall. With a grunt he heaved himself up, putting his weight on his right leg. His arms shook with the strain but he continued to hold his position with his arms until he could find purchase with his left foot. At last, he felt secure enough to ease the burden on his arms. Dean pressed his cheek against the moist ground and breathed deeply, willing the muscles that were bunched with strain to relax.

Finally, as the worst of the ache eased, Dean looked up at the sky above and took notice of his position. He'd scaled the side maybe ten inches. At the rate he was going he'd run out of strength before he ran out wall. Despite the futility of it all, Dean kept going. After all, he was nothing if not his father's son.

He estimated he was still roughly two feet from the lip of the hole when he first heard the sound. Deep and fierce it made Dean wince in sympathy, he'd been awoken by that same sound often enough over the last two weeks to recognize it immediately. He couldn't help but drop his forehead against the dirt wall in relief as the sound tapered off a bit.

"Sammy," he yelled, not caring about whatever might roam the forest. He was done in, and from the sound of his brother's cough, Sam was right there with him.

Dean continued to call out to his brother until his voice was reduced to little more than a croak and his throat ached with the strain. He clung to the wall, unable to pull himself up any father and unwilling to drop down into the mire. He hadn't heard any sound from his brother and yet he refused to believe he'd dreamed the coughing. He also couldn't bear to admit to himself that his brother, already weakened by illness, had passed out wherever he was.

Dean's body began to tremble with the strain of holding on, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer so he drew a deep breath and let loose one last cry, " SAMMY"

888

"Dean"

So intent was he on holding his position that the voice from above literally made him jump. Dean didn't have time to process much before he hit the ground. The stink and mire of the pit prevented him from breaking anything but didn't do much to stop the ache that rolled though his body on impact. Surrounded by the stench of decay, Dean struggled to draw breath without vomiting up everything he'd eaten for the last two days.

"Dean"

Dean heard his brother's rasp and winced knowing the pain Sam must be in. His own throat felt raw and all he'd done was yell a bit. "yeah, Sammy," he answered once he was certain he'd be able to hold onto his lunch.

"Shit, Dean, I didn't think I'd find you. I kept losing your voice."

Dean pushed himself up, his arms trembling from his earlier exertion. As he looked up at the wavering form of his kid brother, he had no doubt the younger man had trouble pin-pointing him. Not willing to spend many more moments in the stench filled hole, Dean called up, "Sam, tell me you've got a rope?"

He wasn't sure but, Dean thought Sam nodded before dropping to the ground. As he watched his brother rifle through the bag by his side, he couldn't help but call out a warning, "She's around, Sam. Annie, she's out there somewhere, kiddo. You need to keep your eyes open."

Sam didn't reply to Dean's warning, he did however pull a long coiled rope from the bag by his side. To Dean's dismay, once his brother had the rope he couldn't seem to remember why he needed it. Dean watched as Sam's head tipped forward, the rope in his hands slithering toward the pit.

Afraid the line, or even worse his brother, would slide into the pit Dean barked, "Sammy, look alive."

Sam's head jerked up and he grabbed the rope out of instinct, stopping the coil from slipping into the opening in the ground. "Dean?" Sam questioned as if unsure where his brother was.

Dean drew a breath and immediately regretted it, between the dead things and that cat the air was beyond foul. "Sammy, you need to tie the rope off. Do you hear me, kid? You need to tie it off and toss me a line."

Sam seemed to struggle with the command for a moment before he unsteadily gained his feet. As he walked away from Dean's sight-line the older man began to worry the kid was simply traipsing around the forest instead of following his command. He should have known better. A few minutes after Sam disappeared the rope appeared over the edge of the hole and slithered down toward Dean.

Still concerned about his brother, Dean grabbed the rope and gave it an experimental tug. Satisfied that it was indeed attached to something, Dean began the grueling process of pulling himself out of trap.

888

**Chapter End Notes:**

Hope you enjoyed. - I'd love to know what you think, so drop me a line. - Kel


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note:** I will be away Wednesday and Thursday so in light of that fact I'm posting Chapter 8 tonight and Chapter 9 late on Thursday. Thanks so much for the wondeful support and I hope you continue to enjoy.

888

Dean heaved, every muscle in his body protesting, as he worked his way up the rope. As he pulled, he dug the toes of his boots into the dirt walls. Feeling a bit like Spiderman scaling a skyscraper, he made his way to the lip of the hole and with one last push forced his body out of the ground.

He allowed himself only one moment of rest, one cheek pressed against the moldering leaves of the forest floor, before he gained his feet. Despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to curl up here on the forest floor and rest his weary body, the drive to find his brother gave him the strength to move on.

"Sam," he yelled as he searched the surrounding area. He knew his bag hadn't fallen into the pit with him so that meant it must be somewhere close. Problem was it had grown dark, so, any chance of seeing it was slim.

"Umph," Dean moaned as he hit the ground with a thud. Cursing the fact that he almost tumbled back into his dirt cell, he sat up and ran his hand over the ground searching for whatever had tripped him. The feel of his duffle bag offered him a small measure of relief, at least he would no longer be blind and unarmed.

Within moments he had a flashlight in hand, his bag slung over one arm and the heavy comforting weight of his shotgun in the other. Though the blast from the weapon wouldn't kill 'Annie', it should at least knock her off her feet. Not bothering to call out to Sam, Dean shined his light on the rope. As he followed the length of cord, he prayed he'd find his brother at the end. He'd seen no sign of the Black Annis since he'd fallen, but he had no doubt she was somewhere close by.

There at last, at the base of the tree was the youngest Winchester. He was sprawled against the rough bark, his cheek actually resting against a gnarled old root. As Dean dropped beside him, he ghosted the flashlight over Sam's body. Relieved to find no apparent injuries, he spoke softly to his brother, "Hey, man, come on, Sammy. Wake up, kid."

As he lightly prodded his brother's unmoving body, he noted the heat that was pouring off of him. Sam's fever had returned with a vengeance and Dean was fairly sure the kid was out for the count. "Shit, Sam. How the hell am I gonna get us out of here."

Dean stayed crouched by his brother's side for a moment more, before at last moving to untie the rope from the tree. He knew dragging his brother out was his only option. Sam was too damn heavy to carry for long and their was no way Dean could watch their backs while hoisting Sam through the forest. That left a travois as their only option. Luckily Dean was way too good at building the sturdy sleds, it was a skill that each member of the Winchester family had perfected over the years. In less than a half-hour, he'd managed to build the travois out of two sturdy limbs, a couple of thick branches, the rope Sam had saved him with, and the canvas from Sam's duffle bag.

The hardest part of all had been loading his unconscious brother onto the sturdy frame. Every muscle in his body protested as he heaved Sam onto the soft fir tree branches he'd used to cushion the makeshift bed. At last, Sam was loaded and Dean was more than ready to put the forest behind him. Though he was certain he could sense the hag that lived nearby she made no move on the brothers. The elder hunter assumed she was reluctant to take on anything bigger than a toddler. Self-preservation seemed to be Annie's number one priority.

That was fine by Dean, with him feeling like crap and Sammy unable to defend himself the last thing he needed to do was face off with some uber grandma. Dean stood between the traces and reached down to grasp the rope he'd tied to handles. The hours of struggling to get out of the trap, combined with climbing the rope to safety had his arms feeling pretty much like jelly. Dean yoked himself to the travois, centering the rope across his broad chest. Then he carefully eased down to grasp the ends of the branches and lifted. Dean couldn't help the groan as his brother's weight settled onto his arms and pulled at his shoulders. As gently as he could, Dean settled Sam onto the ground once more and took a moment to re-adjust the length of rope.

This time when Dean strapped himself to the conveyance he was happy to find that the adjustment had helped. The majority of Sam's weight was now being distributed across Dean's chest and shoulders rather than his arms. Confident that he could carry Sam out this way, Dean began moving out. Earlier the darkness had been complete, the forest blocking the majority of light from the newly risen moon. Now, however, the moon had reached the sky and was lighting up the night despite the canopy of trees overhead. The meager light, factored in with Dean's own sense of direction, had him making his way toward the car with self-assurance despite the few detours he made as he tried to find the car.

As near as Dean could tell, the eyes that had so carefully watched him while he was near the third cave didn't follow once he'd reached the half-way point to the car. He said a quick prayer that Annie stayed away, because engaging in battle with the old bitch while Sammy faded away wasn't something that Dean wanted.

Sam remained unconscious all through that journey rousing only when Dean hit the unavoidable root or rock, drawing a muffled moan from the younger man. Dean wasn't sure at what point his brain shut down and his body went on auto-pilot but he had to admit he was shocked as hell when at last he broke through a barrier of underbrush and saw a shaft of moonlight reflecting off the hood of the Impala. Unsure of when he'd ever been so grateful to see his baby, Dean groaned and drug Sam closer.

888

"Come on, Kiddo. We're home," Dean said as he gently shook his brother, trying to lure the big man back to the waking world. Dean had only been able to rouse his brother enough to get him into the car, once settled on the back seat, Sam had given into exhaustion and had promptly passed back out. Now that they were safely parked in the Mable's sister's driveway, Dean prayed that he could get the bigger man awake once more. The older hunter was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to get Sam upstairs without his brother's help, he'd used up the last of his reserves just making it out of the forest. The idea of carrying Sam the three floors to their bedroom had Dean considering just bunking down in the backseat of the car, despite how much Sam needed help.

"Dean, Sam? Oh, thank god, Peg, they're home," Floss' cry sounded from the second floor deck that ran the length of the back of the house.

Dean looked up at the older woman as she leaned precariously over the railing one hand flapping in welcome. A reluctant smile graced the eldest Winchester's face as he watched Peg come barreling out of the back door, her spry movements contradicting her actual age. Floss followed her sister down the deck stairs, her cries of, "Oh, you poor boys," growing breathless as she neared.

Upon arriving at the sisters, Dean had opened the back door of the big black car and had been trying to rouse his brother. Then upon hearing Floss' cry, he'd straightened up with a popping of knees and had watched the sister's approach. As Peg gained his side, she roughly elbowed him aside and dropped down to examine Sam.

"I knew he was too sick to go off into the night air," the older woman complained as she carefully held a hand to the young man's flushed cheek.

Floss ignored Sam completely and instead focused her bright eyes on Dean. He shifted uncomfortably when faced with her obvious dismay. Offering her just a dim shadow of his normal smile, Dean shrugged and said, "I'm fine."

Peg snorted and stood, again her elbow finding Dean's ribs. "Fine, my ass. You're no more fine than your brother is. Let's get you two inside."

Dean's vision blurred a bit and he knew he was weaving slightly. Problem was he couldn't stop the motion no matter how hard he tried. "Might be a bit harder than that seems," Dean said as he fought of the exhaustion that threatened to knock him down.

"Nonsense, you'd be surprised what we old ladies can manage," Peg snorted as she turned to her sister. "Floss, Mom's wheelchair is still in the basement, run and get it."

Nodding in agreement Floss moved off through the night the basement her obvious intention. Dean couldn't help but grin at the older woman's bossy tone. "I gotta hand it to you Peg, you run a tight ship." Dean's gaze was drawn back to his own brother with a frown. "I need to learn that trick. Sam refuses to listen to me."

Peg began tapping Sam's cheek. "Please, I would never be so dumb as to issue my sister an order. I merely point out the right way to do things and she agrees."

Dean snorted and replied, "Yeah, sure you do." Even in the dark, Dean could see the whiteness of Peg's smile as the older woman grinned.

"Dean," Sam groaned as he struggled to avoid Peg's ministrations.

"Come on, young Sam, you need to wake up," Peg said as she continued to pat Sam's face.

Sam swiped a hand, nearly knocking the older woman to the ground. Luckily, Dean managed to find his reflexes long enough to stop her from making impact. "I gotcha," he said as he righted Peg, "why don't you let me have a go."

Peg nodded and shifted out of the way. Dean hunkered down by his brother's side and called to him, "Sam, you need to get yourself up now." Though Dean hated the commanding tone of voice, he had no doubt that Sam would respond to it.

As hoped, Sam groaned and began blinking. It was obvious he was trying to get his bearings. "Dean," he called out again.

"Yeah, Sam, I'm here. We made it, dude, we're back at the sisters." Dean watched as Sam began to drift off again. "Oh, no," he said as he began to force Sam to sit up. "No more lazing around, Francis. I ain't carrying all seven feet of you upstairs. You need to wake up."

"Here, Dean," Floss said as she pushed an ancient looking wheel chair up beside him.

Dean closed his eyes for one brief moment before forcing a smile into his voice. "Here we go, Sammy, you're chariot awaits," with these words, Dean wrapped his arms under Sam's armpits and held tight. With a heave he stood, Sam's head lolling against his shoulder, and pulled his brother across the leather seats. The elder Winchester had to admit it was actually easier than he'd expected getting Sam into the chair. Once his brother was secured, Dean spoke to Floss.

"If it's alright I'd like to set Sam up on the couch. It'll be easier to care for him there."

Floss, god bless her, was kind enough not to point out that there was really little chance seeing as Dean was in no shape to carry his baby brother. "Of course, I already have the couch set up and you can have the recliner."

"Come, now, Dean. Let's get you both inside," Peg suggested.

Dean reached out, gripped the handles of Sam's chair and pulled his brother back from the car. "You don't issue orders, huh?" he joked as he pushed Sam down the driveway, toward the sidewalk. There was no point in returning to the basement entrance as then he would still have to deal with the steps leading to the first floor. Instead, he would make his way up the hill toward the front of the house.

Peg smiled and shut the heavy steel door. "Not me, I just speak the truth."

Dean heard an unmistakable snort come from Floss who walked just behind him. Deciding that now wasn't the time to start a blood-feud Dean grinned and kept his mouth shut. "Shit, you have to lay off the salad's little brother," Dean complained as he began the long trek to the front of the house.

888

Dean woke to the sound of coughing. With a groan, he forced himself to sit up. Despite the aspirin he'd taken earlier his entire body felt sore and stiff. His exertions in the hole had left him feeling exhausted. The recliner he was spread out on had done little to ease the muscle strain and had probably made things worse. As he sat up, he glanced toward his brother, waiting to see if Sam's cough worsened. Surprisingly, once the younger man had been deposited on the couch and dosed with a fever reducer and some of Floss' tea he'd fallen into a more natural sleep.

Despite the sister's frequent complaints about his smell, Dean had remained by Sam's side for over an hour before finally succumbing to the lure of a hot shower. Once under the spray of the warm water and out of the eye of others he'd allowed the pain he was feeling to surface. The sting of tears in his eyes had little to do with muscle soreness and everything to do with the large patch of skin he'd taken off the palm of his left hand while climbing the rope. As he'd thoroughly cleaned the area he found himself longing for sleep. Like a water mirage in the middle of a desert, the thought of bed kept him moving when all his body wanted to do was drop.

At last, clean as he was going to get and loosened up a bit from the hot spray, he'd stepped out of the bright light of the bathroom only to find Floss lying in wait. A half-hour later he had finally ducked the surprisingly bossy woman's ministrations and made his way to the recliner in the living room. The sun had just begun it's ascent in the sky when he stretched out on the overstuffed chair and fell asleep.

Finding himself awake now, despite the night sky, Dean left his chair and moved to his brother's side. Softly, so as not to wake Sam, Dean laid the back of his hand against his little brother's forehead. Satisfied that the combination of sleep and fever reducer had left his brother in better shape than earlier, Dean went in search of food. Though the house was silent, he entered each room with caution. Both seniors crept about the house with a quietness that was surprising to say the least. Often he'd found himself jumping as one or the other Mabel sister appeared seemingly out of no where.

"You feeling better, Dear?"

Floss' soft voice met him as he entered the kitchen. The older woman sat to the right of the door, a large tray of what appeared to be meatballs were set out before her.

Dean nodded and made his way to the fridge his stocking feet making no sound on the linoleum floor. "Yeah, actually I am." Dean opened the fridge and pulled out the chocolate milk container. He had managed to pour himself a glass of the dark chocolaty mixture and had snagged a handful of cookies from the ever present Tupperware container on the table before he realized that he was serving himself. A glance toward Floss showed that the woman wasn't even rolling the meatballs she was simply sitting, hands lax on the tray as she stared into space.

A wiggle of unease crawled up his spine. From the moment he'd stepped foot into this house, Floss had never once stopped trying to feed him. In fact, he'd joked to Sam several times that Floss would try and feed a dead man if she was given the opportunity. The older woman clearly took to heart the old adage 'the way to a man's heart was through his stomach'.

Careful not to startle her, Dean took a seat next to her and spoke softly, "Everything okay, Floss?

Despite the gentleness of his tone, Floss jumped as if he'd goosed her. "Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. Did you need something?" Floss moved as if to gain her feet.

Dean's hand on her wrist had her stopping. "Something's wrong," Dean stated no longer sure he wanted to know what the problem was.

Floss deliberately turned away and nodded toward the back porch. "Peg's outside," was all she said before standing.

This time Dean let her go. Whatever was wrong, he found he lacked the courage to force the older woman into talking. As Floss fled the kitchen he found himself staring hard at the back door. With one last glance about the warm room, Dean stepped out into the night air.

888

"No need to lurk, my boy, I know you're there,"

Somehow, Peg's rough growl reassured Dean. Whatever had happened the old lady still had a bit of bite left. Then he saw the faint red glow of the cigarette she held in her hand. Dean made his way toward the slider and sat beside the eldest Mabel sister. Once settled Peg held out the crumpled pack of menthols in silent offer. Feeling he just might need a boost of nicotine before this conversation ended, Dean accepted the last lone cigarette. As he lit up and drew in that first smoke-filled breath, he reminded himself of all the reasons he had never taken up smoking.

"You know menthols have fiberglass in them," he said, and then winced at that little conversational gem. It was just the complete stillness with which the woman beside him held herself was starting to grate. Dean didn't do still, not unless he was on the clock. Otherwise, he preferred to fill his world with noise and movement. He found the distractions helped to cut down on his own worries, and seeing as three-quarters of his problems had no resolve in sight he found dwelling on them only made things worse.

"Oh, boy, I don't care at the moment if they carry the plague,"

Peg's response did nothing to re-assure Dean. Deciding to plunge in with both feet, he crushed the end of his cigarette and stared hard at the older woman. "What happened?" he asked, now absolutely sure he didn't want to know.

Peg turned toward him, her face looking every bit it's 75 years. With a sigh, the older woman spoke at last, "The Moore baby's gone. Near as anyone can tell poor Oscar was taken sometime this evening. They are working to release poor Emma Thompson as we speak."

Dean stood in a flash anger spiking through his system washing away every last trace of the nicotine induced calm. "Why didn't you wake us?" he snarled as he moved for the house.

Uncaring if Peg trailed behind or not, Dean slammed into the house and headed for the living room, calling out, "Sammy, come on up and at 'em."

"Dean, you can't wake him, he still doesn't feel..."

"What's wrong?" Floss' words were cut off as Sam gained his feet, not a trace of confusion in his tone.

"Another baby," Dean said as he headed for the steps content that his brother would follow.

Sure enough as Dean hit the second floor running, Sam was right behind him. He was surprisingly steady given his state earlier today. Once in the attic Dean quickly dressed, pulling on boots still damp from yesterday's jaunt through the woods and asked his brother, "You okay to go out there. Shouldn't be too rough, we know what we're dealing with and her territory."

At his brother's silence, Dean glanced up from the boot he was tying and snapped, "Sam!"

Sam's head jerked up and he nodded impatiently. "Yeah, I'm fine, but listen I was thinking. We're going with the theory that this thing is similar to a Wendingo in that it hibernates right?"

At Dean's impatient nod, Sam continued, "Well, I'm wondering if this thing will kill the baby right away, or if it'll take it back to the cave and store it."

Dean stared at Sam a combination of hope and horror filled his words as he said, "Seriously, you think there might be a chance that this one is still alive."

Sam nodded, unable to give voice to his hope.

"Well, okay then. Let's go get him back and burn ourselves a bitch."

888

"You can't go," Floss argued her eyes darting toward her sister in supplication.

"This is what we do, Floss. If there's even the smallest chance that the babe is alive then that's enough for us," Dean snapped as he shrugged on his coat.

Sam avoided looking directly at the diminutive woman with the large brown eyes. Though he was certain of his course of action, it didn't mean that the tears trembling at the corner of Floss' eyes didn't affect him.

"We're going," his brother said, the roughness in his voice having nothing to do with anger, and everything to do with guilt, of that Sam had no doubt.

Dean moved to the door, the stiffness of his gate giving voice to the abuse his body had suffered only hours ago. He never hesitated as he strode though the front door.

Sam admitted to himself that he wasn't quite that ballsy. He couldn't help but feel like a scolded pup as he ducked his head and slinked toward the door.

"Peg," Floss cried out beseeching her sister to interfere.

"What if you don't come back?"

Peg's throaty voice stopped Sam in his tracks. Peg had managed the one argument that Sam had no ready answer for. It was true, in their line of work they flirted with death at every corner. Sam stopped by the notepad that rested on the countertop. Peg was right, they needed backup. If for some reason they couldn't complete the job, then someone would need to kill the Black Annis before it could do any more harm.

"Call this number if we're not back in forty-eight hours. He'll come. You just tell him what you know and he'll take care of the rest," Sam said as he bolted for the door.

"Forty-eight hours? But you could both be dead by then," Floss argued the concern in her voice drawing Sam's attention despite his intentions.

Floss stood before him, her bottom lip trembling, and tears making tracks down her round cheeks as she pleaded, "Sam."

Sam caved, Hell, at that moment if Floss had asked him to fly to the moon he would have agreed to try just to stop the pitiful look of fear and sadness that graced the older woman's features.

"Fine, give us 24 hours." Afraid that the grey-haired lady would ask for more, Sam bolted for the door and freedom.

888

"Well, it's certainly nice to see your charms still work," Peg drawled as she wiped a hand under her own slightly damp eyes. Though she understood Dean and Sam's compulsion to go after the Moore baby she couldn't help but feel she had seen the last of the brothers.

Peg watched as her younger sister pulled a somewhat dubious looking tissue out of the sleeve of her sweater and used it to mop her eyes.

"Yes, well baby in danger or not, I'm not going to allow those boys to sacrifice themselves. They deserve to have someone watch out for them for once."

Peg found she couldn't fault her sister's logic. It was obvious that both men cared for others, even strangers, more than for themselves. "So what now? We just sit here twiddling our thumbs while we wait for the time to pass?"

"Hell, no," snapped Floss, "the time for resting on our laurels is well past. We need to act." Floss' action suited her words as she moved toward the notepad Sam had used.

Peg's grin grew as she realized what her sister intended. "Those boys never stood a chance did they?"

Floss' look of determination was answer enough.

**Chapter End Notes:**

Hope you enjoyed, thanks for all the reviews and the people reading. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** Okay, so I have some appologizing to do. I had expected to return home by Thursday, but thanks to terrific weather we stayed an extra day at the beach... So, here's the update and only a day late at that. Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews...you guys have been great !!

888

"You ready to burn this bitch?" Dean whispered as he eased around the rock formation that was currently acting as cover for the Winchesters.

Sam nodded as he tightened his grip on the flare gun he held. "Try for a body shot if you can. She should have the same basic properties as a Wendingo."

Dean's gaze remained locked on the cave, they had determined that she was safely ensconced inside. The men were careful to remain out of sight, they had no intention of giving the Black Annis advanced warning of their arrival. "Should have. Great. What else are you guessing about?"

Sam couldn't help but grin at his brother's put upon voice. Dean liked to make a show off doubting Sam's theories but Sam knew the truth. The elder Winchester had put his fate squarely in Sam's back pocket more times than either could count. In fact, Sam had little doubt that his brother would confront the old crone with little more than a tooth brush if Sam thought it would be effective.

Most of the time, Dean's absolute faith in Sam's knowledge sent a surge of pride through him. However, this wasn't one of those times. The rolling nausea that had twisted Sam's guts into one big knot was a constant reminder that this time he had little fact to back up his theory.

Despite the ample information Sam had been able to gather on the Black Annis, he'd yet to find any accounts of how to kill the creature. Though, he had kept his fears to himself, Sam worried that the lack of information was a sign that the Annis couldn't be killed.

Sam pushed aside his worries, the Winchesters were unable to walk away from this hunt, so, really there was little point in worrying over what couldn't be helped. Either burning the Annis would work or it wouldn't, there was little to be done about it now, only feet from their prey. Sam recalled the other facts he'd gleaned from Dean's account and his own research. "She's not gonna rush us as long as we don't smell like the rotting corpse of a cat. She'll work to outsmart us instead."

Dean threw out a hand and knocked Sam in the chest. "Good to know. So, as long as you keep your boots on, she should leave us alone."

"Yeah, 'cause it's my boots that smell like road kill. That's all you, man," Sam said as he laughed softly. He had to admit that after the past week's inactivity, and Dean's stifling mothering, his brother's one liners were actually welcoming.

"How you feeling," asked Dean as he once again focused on the cave entrance.

Sam considered his brother's question carefully. The cough that had been his constant companion for the last week seemed to be on the run at last. Though, he was fairly sure any over exertion on his part would bring about a relapse. He was certain that's what had happened on his first trek into the forest. Anxious for his brother's safety, he'd set a pace for the caves that was unrealistic at best. The strain of trying to draw breath in his already weakened state had stolen his reserves leaving him helpless.

This journey had already helped to prove his theory. While they had by no means strolled through the thick vegetation, they had taken it a bit slower. Dean had even insisted on pausing every now and again when the sound of Sam's labored breathing began to drown out the sounds of nature.

All in all, Sam was feeling better than he had in awhile, he only hoped he could maintain it until the Annis was dead and burned.

Of course, there was no reason to lay that all on Dean. After all, no matter what Sam said Dean would be the only one that could proclaim Sam healed. The elder Winchester's question was only a cursory gesture. Both brothers knew better than to believe each other's words when their health was in question.

"I'm fine."

Dean rolled his eyes dramatically and snorted. "'Course you are."

Sam did his own bit of eye rolling and ignored Dean's sarcastic remark.

"Regardless of what you think, Sam, you're not out of the woods yet."

Sam, unable to resist, gestured to the surrounding forest and grinned.

Dean's low groan left Sam no doubt that his humor was unappreciated. "Okay, smart ass, you come up with a plan yet, or are you still working on your shtick?"

In an instant Sam's smile was replaced by a dark scowl. "I did, but, you're not going to like it."

Dean gave a heartfelt sigh before replying, "I'm not going to let you be the bait, Sam."

Sam turned toward his brother and paused for a moment gathering his argument. He knew Dean would pull out all the stops in order to shoot down Sam's plan, but, it really was their only option. "It'll work, Dean, and it's for the best. If I draw 'Annie' off, that leaves you to grab Oscar and run."

"You're in no shape to evade this thing, Sam. Not to mention we're not even sure the baby's alive."

Opening his eyes wide, Sam pursed his lips then said, "But, think about it, Dean. She's not gonna be fooled for very long. Which means you're going to be in more danger than I am the moment she realizes you're stealing her dinner."

As Sam expected the idea of carrying the most likely injured, he refused to even think dead, baby with 'Annie' in hot pursuit gave Dean pause. Sam had already resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't a hundred percent yet and little Oscar needed his rescuer to be at his best, not wheezing with every teetering step.

At least, Sam thought, as he contemplated the flare gun in his hand, he hoped that was Dean's reasoning. Personally, Sam wanted the bitch to follow him simply because he wanted to off the hag as payback for the lives Black Annis had ruined. It would be a good long while before the image of Emma Thompson grieving for her youngest would fade from his memory.

"You know how to get back to the car, in case we're separated?" Dean asked.

Sam took the words for the acceptance they were and nodded. "Yeah, I've been over the map a couple of times, plus I spent a good bit of time here yesterday while searching for you."

Dean's gaze hardened as he came to terms with his decision. "Fine, go south, toward the second cave. Once I see her follow, I'll search the cave and grab the ba-"

"Oscar," Sam said firmly, needing to believe that the baby was still alive. That this time a family would be saved from having their lives shattered.

"I'll grab, Oscar."

Dean's grimace over the baby's name elicited a smile from Sam. On the car ride over, Dean had made it quite clear, he thought that any parent that would attach such a handle to an infant was clearly unstable.

His brother continued, "I'll follow you and if we're lucky we'll catch the bitch between us. Just remember we've only got two shots each."

Sam nodded and turned his gaze back toward where the Annis lived. "Four shots, it'll be enough."

"It's going to have to be."

888

Dean stayed well out of sight as he watched Sam step in front of the cave entrance.

The mound of lichen covered rock rose out of the ground like something out of a fairy tale. As he watched, Dean kept expecting to see a line of seven dwarves to come walking out of the five foot high entrance while whistling a jaunty work song. Not, he clarified to himself, that he'd ever watched the movie Snow White. It was simply something he'd picked up from the year had Sam turned five and had insisted on watching the Disney flick again and again.

He had to admit, in later years he'd found the tale of Snow and her dwarves to be much more interesting when watched on the Skin-a-max channel. At least then the dwarves had reason to whistle while they worked.

Dean's attention was jerked away from his rather pleasant daydream by the sight of Sam gesturing toward the cave. Good, Dean thought to himself as he nodded in response, Sam must have some reason to believe the baby was alive, otherwise he wouldn't have bothered with the signal.

The confirmation was enough for him to feel better about their half-assed plan. Though the thought of losing Sam was enough to cripple Dean with panic, it became slightly easier to bear knowing this wasn't some kind of wild goose chase.

A feeling of unease and the sound of a twig snapping were Dean's only indication that danger was near before pain ripped through his shoulder and he was forcibly yanked backward.

With a cry of agony, Dean reached back and clawed frantically at the fingernails that were dug into the meat of his shoulder and forearm like a vise. So great was the pain that Dean nearly passed out as he was drug across the forest floor.

Arm held immobile over his head, Dean was at the mercy of the Annis. The old crone's stench was overwhelming. A mixture of rotting meat and animal musk to be what the inside of a bear cave must smell like. That is, if, the bear had been dead and decomposing for over a month.

Afraid he was about to loose consciousness, Dean struggled to reach the knife he kept inside his jacket pocket. Unfortunately, the knife was his only option as the blue-faced hag had managed to grab his gun hand. Though, he'd yet to drop the weapon, his rapidly numbing fingers would soon be unable to retain their grip.

That left his knife. It wouldn't kill the bitch, but it might just convince her to let go, and at this moment, Dean wanted nothing more than for her to let go.

Dean worked to push away the pain in his shoulder, but every bump of the uneven ground seemed to drive the Black Annis' fingers deeper into his muscle. He had no doubt that after this little run in, he'd be in need of every antibiotic known to man.

The time to act was now, before the creature managed to do any more damage. That thought was the push Dean needed to withdraw the knife from his jacket.

Pain rolled through him as he struggled to either stop, or at the very least slow his backward momentum. Desperately, he worked to dig his boots into the forest floor. Using the last of his draining energy, he shoved his feet under him. Determined not to become a tasty treat for the bitch that was silently ripping his arm off, Dean rolled right and drove his left arm in a clean, sweeping, arc.

888

Sam stood facing the Black Annis' cave. Hands held loosely at his side he forced himself to calm. It was never a good idea to allow your fears to drive your actions. That had been a lesson that John Winchester had drilled into his sons when they were little more than children. Bravery, according to their father wasn't a lack of fear, it was doing what was necessary despite your fear.

As the youngest, he really hadn't understood his father's point. It was only after Sam watched his brother face down a feral dog, while defending him that he had realized just what John had meant.

They'd been working on the second week of a two week stint in Arizona. The hot, dry landscape had driven a seven year old Sam to seek cover in the backyard under the meager shade provided by their run down trailer. Though the aluminum house did nothing but magnify the one hundred plus degree days, the back yard looked over an open mesa that was as beautiful as it was brutal.

Dean had fallen asleep on the couch, the sound of the baseball game he'd been watching drifted out the open window just above Sam's head. The noise combined with the heat, had Sam's head nodding, and in moments his eyes slipped shut.

When he awoke, his brain still foggy from sleep, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary, only the blessing of a sun hanging low over the bleached white land. The cooler air, raised gooseflesh on Sam's arms as it blew across his sweat soaked skin. He almost felt cool, or well as cool as it was possible to feel in August in Arizona

Surprised that he'd slept so long, Sam had stood and headed toward the front of the mobile home. He'd just neared the corner of the trailer when a low growl stopped him in his tracks. The trickle of fear that raced down his spine became a flood as the animal growled again, this time from even closer.

The sound was so near, Sam could almost feel the vibration of the low rumble. Unsure of what to do, but, unable to keep his back toward the threat, he turned and faced the creature.

The dog stood not ten feet from Sam, it's four paws were spread wide in a stance of aggression. It looked ready to spring at any provocation and Sam worked hard not to trigger the beast. The dog's dirty white coat was matted and full of debris. So emaciated was the animal, that every bone stood out in sharp relief. For a brief moment, Sam wondered if it was the skeleton of a dog that faced him in the hot sun.

Another vicious growl shook Sam from his imaginings. He hadn't been sure how to react. John had made it clear that when faced with a threatening dog the worst thing to do was run, but Sam's fear urged him to do it anyway. Scared past reasoning, Sam leaned toward the steps.

"Don't move, Sammy."

His brother's voice was like a balm to his senses, sending a flood of calm through his young body, despite the fear he could hear in Dean's tone. Confident now that Dean would save the day, Sam had turned toward his older brother.

"I'm going to distract it, Sam. I need you to get into the house. Quick as you can."

Dean had obviously just woken up, his hair stuck up at all angles and there was a crease on his cheek from what was most likely the sofa arm. Regardless of all that, his eyes were clear and his tone hard as the older boy eased toward both the dog and Sam.

"I won't leave you, Dean," Sam uttered. His low spoken words elicited another snarl from the creature.

"You will, and you won't stop until you're locked inside."

Sam knew an order when he heard one, and in this case, Dean's voice allowed no room for defiance. Tears that he'd been too afraid earlier to shed, now poured down Sam's dusty cheeks leaving tracks down his face. "Yes, Dean," he muttered still unable to tear his eyes from his brother.

Dean nodded and swallowed visibly. It was obvious the older boy was scared to death, but, he never faltered. One moment he stood stock still only twenty feet from the bag of bones that was panting heavily in the late afternoon air, and the next he was whooping up a storm, drawing the creature's undivided attention.

Sam didn't allow himself to falter, instead he ran as fast as he could for the front of the trailer. In minutes, Sam's foot struck the rickety stairs that led to the front door of the mobile home and he flew up the three steps to the entrance. Through the door he went, barely taking the time to shut the paper thin front door behind him, straight back to the living room window where he pressed his face against the screen desperate for some sign of his brother.

As Sam gazed out the back, his eyes scanning the late afternoon shadows, he saw his brother had a handful of what looked like rocks in his hand and was trying to drive off the beast. One after another, his aim true and steady, Dean pegged the dog with the stones. The brute stood his ground for a moment despite the pelting and seemed to weigh his options. Finally, it took off, darting across the ground, obviously, in search of easier prey.

Sam watched his brother drop to his knees, the rocks he held falling out of his limp hand. Dean's head then dropped back, his face raised to the sky in supplication. Despite his tightly closed lids, tears streamed down his face giving voice to just how afraid he'd been.

Looking back on the incident Sam realized just what it had taken his brother, only eleven at the time himself, to face down that mongrel. The dog, underfed and over-abused would have happily torn Sam apart before he could have managed a scream. Yet, Dean had never hesitated. He'd automatically come to the defense of his younger brother because that was the right thing to do, if not the easiest.

Often, when faced with fears larger than he was sure he could handle, Sam would think back to that one moment in time. Though, it wasn't the last time Dean had offered up his life in exchange for Sam's, it was the first that Sam could remember. The site of his brother, kneeling there in the dirt would always be the image that straightened Sam's spine in defiance. Sam returned to the present, determined to live up to his brother's example.

The mewling cry of what he hoped was baby Oscar echoed out of the cavern giving the young hunter a burst of hope. Without fully taking his eyes off the opening, he gestured to Dean that the babe was indeed still alive. More determined than ever, Sam took a step forward intent on drawing the bitch out of her lair.

Dean's cry of pain halted Sam in his tracks.

"Shit," he breathed, as he turned his back on the opening, now certain that they'd been out played. By all indications Annie should have been inside the cave, trapped and incapable of sneaking up behind the Winchesters.

The only explanation possible was an alternative exit. Some small opening that had escaped both the hunter's examination of the topographical maps and the surrounding area. A feeling of nausea rolled through Sam, causing him to swallow the bile that threatened. They'd screwed up royally and now Dean was paying the price.

Another grunt from his brother had Sam heading toward Dean. The faint cry of the infant had him hesitating. Despite what he desperately wanted, he couldn't ignore the voice in his head that insisted he do the right thing. The fact that the voice sounded suspiciously like his brother wasn't lost on Sam. If anyone understood doing the right thing it was Dean. Ignoring both his heartache and his brother's obvious pain, Sam headed into the cave.


	10. Chapter 10

Despite the severity of the situation, Sam couldn't help but be reminded of a bad porno he'd once watched that involved a cave similar to this one. The movie had forever ruined the image of Snow White for the younger hunter. From then on out, he'd learned not to allow Dean to order movies from pay-per-view.

Pushing aside the image of Snow and her dwarves, Sam, bent nearly in half to squeeze through the opening. He worked hard to tune out the sounds of the struggle that was taking place in the woods behind him. He had a job to do and that job was currently screaming his tiny little lungs out.

For Sam the upset infant was both a blessing and a curse. He was thankful that Oscar still had the strength to kick up such a fuss, but he also found himself wishing that the babe would quiet. He had no desire to make themselves a larger target than they already were. Sam had a feeling that Annie would not be happy he was stealing her dinner.

As he began to leave the daylight behind, a putrid smell began to assault his senses. The deeper he went the worse the odor. A combination of rotting meat and animal musk, the scent was doing it's best to make him gag.

The darkness grew deeper, leaving Sam with no choice but to reach a hand out to trail down the damp, stone wall. Suppressing a shudder, he tried not to notice the grooves that marked the rock, long, deep gouges that ran the length of the wall. He didn't even want to think that Dean was in danger of being torn apart by the same nails that had made those grooves.

Unable to shove the image away, the urge to gag wasn't just an urge anymore. Sam dropped to his knees and retched, the picture of Dean caught in the mercy of a creature that could claw through rock leaving him weak with guilt and fear. Despite the fact that his older brother would have kicked his ass if he'd gone after the hunter rather than baby Oscar, Sam still felt like a failure.

Kneeling on the cold, damp rock, Sam swiped a hand across his mouth and ignored the tightness in his chest. He had a job to do, and the sooner he got it done, the quicker he could head for Dean. Determined not to let the only family he had left to die on him, Sam gained his feet and hurried the best he could down the dank, dark, passageway.

888

Dean's strike was hard, fast and accurate, and it was the last thing he managed to do before passing out. Near as he could figure he'd lain bleeding on the forest floor for close to fifteen minutes. Considering just how vulnerable he'd been he was lucky as hell to have even woken up. He had no doubt that the blow he struck had done little permanent damage. Most likely all it had done was frighten the damn thing away.

The Black Annis, though powerful and deadly, was so used to dealing with defenseless children and babies that Dean's simple act of defiance had done enough to scare it off. It was a good thing, because that one blow had taken every last ounce of Dean's strength.

He lay on his back in the quickly darkening forest, his right arm stretched up behind his head. He'd yet to assess his injuries for the simple reason that he knew it was bad, maybe even beyond bad. He couldn't delay much longer, every moment he remained lying on the ground left Sam and Oscar in even greater danger.

Certain it was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, Dean drew his arm down to lie across his chest. The scream of pain that broke from him, despite his intentions, shattered the surrounding silence. He lay taking several deep breaths until he finally managed to deal with the sheer agony.

Once the pain became a bearable throb that echoed his heartbeat, he knew he could no longer delay in gaining his feet. As he sat up, using his left arm, he considered cutting away his heavy denim jacket to determine his injuries. At last, he decided to let it go for now, near as he could tell, he wasn't bleeding profusely, the nature of the puncture wounds ensured that. So, really he was better off not knowing.

It seemed to take him an inordinate amount of time to get to his feet. Once up, he wavered for a few moments before some deep breathing once again managed to force the pain to a more endurable level.

First, he knew he needed to immobilize his arm. He regretted it as it was his right arm that was injured, but even the slightest of movements proved to be too much. With his left hand, Dean unbuckled his belt and pulled it out of the loops of his jeans. It wouldn't be perfect, his arm would still swing too freely, but at least it would allow him to concentrate on finding Sam.

As he fashioned a loop out of the leather, he re-directed his attention from the pain he was causing himself to the forest around him. The last sight he'd seen of his brother had been a glimpse of Sam headed into the cave. Dean carefully dropped the loop around his neck and slipped his right arm through.

"Shit," he whispered at the flare of pain. Satisfied at last that the makeshift sling was as good as he could make it he found his bearings. He was pretty sure he was only about fifteen minutes west of the cave. Forcing his battered body to move, Dean headed out his eyes scanning the ground for the flare gun he'd dropped during his encounter.

888

The closer Sam moved toward the heart of the cave the greater the odor grew. Left with little other option than to continue forward, he did his dead level best to breathe through his mouth. He'd been moving forward in complete darkness for awhile now. He'd left his flashlight off, figuring it would be better not to announce his presence just in case the hag was somewhere behind or before him. Drawn on by the baby's now dwindling cries, the youngest Winchester at last stumbled out of the passageway and into a larger cavern. Here Oscar's cries were overwhelming, proving to Sam that he'd finally reached the babe. Able at last to stand upright, but unable to see anything, Sam trailed his fingers along the wall.

As much as Sam wanted to run to Oscar's side, he instead put his back to the wall and waited. He employed every one of his senses to determine if he and the babe were alone. At last, unable to sense anything, Sam pulled out a flashlight and lit up the darkness. What he found was really not surprising given the little he'd read about the Black Annis. Like the tunnel, the cave seemed to have been carved out of the bedrock. Gouges, most likely made from Annie's fingernails lined every surface in the room. It was obvious that this area had been created rather than a natural formation. The ground was littered with a spongy layer of both organic and man-made debris.

Moldering leaves, branches, bark, and even dried scrub, were mixed in with an assortment of clothing, possessions and bones. He wasn't surprised to find that shoes, some so tiny that Sam was flooded with pity, made up the majority of the rubbish. After all, with their synthetic materials and rubber soles they would have resisted decaying. Scraps of cloth, even the occasional toy or stuffed animal were mixed in with the lot, proving to Sam that the Annis was a scavenger along with being a killer.

Sam grimaced as he played his light over what looked like a tiny human skull. Though, he was no expert it looked as if she hadn't only targeted babies. None of the bones appeared to have belonged to adults, but he did find a femur that looked as if it might have come from a young boy or girl. He found himself wondering just how many children had 'disappeared' only to die horrible deaths in this hole.

Hard as it was, Sam pulled his gaze from the ground and examined the cave. The diameter of the opening was only maybe fifteen feet wide. Not quite a perfect circle, but damn near close from what Sam could tell, the room was easily seven feet high. Along one side of the space there was a wooden platform made up of what looked like old fencing. On top of the platform was some sort of nest. The bed was made out of strips of what looked like leather. Bile rose in the back of Sam's throat at the sight, there was no doubt in his mind that the strips came not from animal hides but from her victims.

Sam's investigation of the room was quickly brought to a halt at the sound of Oscar's cries. Early at the first appearance of light, Oscar's sobs had abruptly cut off, almost as if the baby were startled to have finally grabbed someone's attention. However, Sam's perusal of the lair, apparently had taken a bit too long as the baby had resumed crying, his yells now taking on epic proportions. Sam had no trouble following the sound to where Oscar lay.

The Black Annis had tucked the infant into a small, square, depression that was carved out of the otherwise rounded walls. Sam knelt at the cut-out and shined his light into the space. The bright light was enough to startle the little one into quietness once more. Big round eyes, stared solemnly back at Sam. Puffy from the constant crying, dirty beyond belief, the small babe nevertheless looked to be okay. Sam said a prayer of thanks and gingerly picked the little one up.

The baby's slight weight surprised Sam, he'd never held a baby that was this young and for some reason he'd expected the tiny creature to have more substance. Careful to support the head, he knew that much at least, Sam drew the babe to his chest. Oscar's icy cold skin, and slightly blue tinged lips worried Sam that time was critical. Without every releasing his hold on the infant, he set down his flashlight and shrugged out of the sweatshirt he'd been wearing. He was suddenly grateful that Dean had insisted he bundle up as Sam then shrugged out of his flannel shirt. Clad in only a tee-shirt, he shuddered at the cold. He could only imagine how much worse the baby was feeling seeing as he was wet with what was probably his own urine and god knows what else.

Carefully, Sam spread the flannel on the ground and laid Oscar in the middle. As soon as he set the baby down, the infant began once more to squall at the top of his lungs. Ignoring the racket, Sam quickly stripped the baby, grimacing at the diaper that was so full it nearly disintegrated at his touch. A quick peruse of the baby's body proved that hypothermia was their main concern. Other than the occasional bruise, the little one didn't appear to have suffered any major injuries. Sam wrapped him tight in his flannel shirt, he hoped the soft material would go a long way toward preserving what little body heat the baby had left.

As soon as Oscar was wrapped tight, Sam picked him back up, cradling him carefully in the crook of his left arm. The younger Winchester wasn't sure if it was the warmth of the flannel or the security of his arms that caused the baby to quiet, but he was grateful either way. There was little hope that he would be able to get the two of them out of the woods without confronting the crone, but he would rather it were on his terms. The baby's cries were nothing but a calling card to the evil creature that hunted them.

"Okay, Oscar, now we just have to find our way out of here and we're good to go," Sam assured the baby.

He was hesitant to use the passageway once more, simply because he didn't look forward to meeting Annie in the close confines. Bent over in half, with the baby tucked against his chest, Sam would have little room to maneuver. That left him searching for the back way out. Determined to keep the baby safe, Sam set about looking for the exit.

888

Dean was tired, dead tired. He was following his tracks back toward the cave, the throbbing in his arm making it difficult to focus. He wasn't all that worried about stumbling over the Black Annis, after all, he was fairly certain that if he did encounter her he was pretty much a dead man anyway. He had no real weapon, though he had found his knife, and he was quickly nearing the end of his strength. It was a pretty sad set of affairs when sickly Sam was the sound one in this outfit, Dean thought, as he finally staggered out of the brush and found the entrance to the cave.

Staggering now from pain and blood loss, Dean dropped down behind a tree and set himself to playing watchdog. He'd decided against entering the cave for the simple reason that he was only going to do more harm than good. If Sam had yet to reach the baby, then Dean's pitiful attempt at rescuing the child would only add to the danger it was in. If Sam had managed to find the babe and was trying to get back out, Dean's interference would only add to the already huge burden his brother was dealing with.

The way he figured, it both options sucked, then again, sucky options seemed to be the norm for Dean. No matter how often he might wish otherwise, he often found himself caught between a rock and a hard place. To add to his burden, it was usually his baby brother playing at being the rock. This time was no different. Act and he put Sam in danger, don't act and Sam's still in danger, it was a no-win. Left with no good option, Dean decided to wait and watch.

888

Bobby dashed up the sidewalk and rapped hard on the front door of the big old brick house. He'd been shocked as hell, when two hours ago, some woman named Floss Mabel had called claiming she knew the Winchesters. At first, Bobby worried that it was some type of trap. It was only after the woman explained just why she was calling that he'd had tossed aside his caution and had pointed the nose of his truck east. Trap or not there was no way he was gonna risk abandoning the boys to whatever creature they were hunting at the moment.

As he crossed the country, breaking the land speed record, Bobby tried time and again to reach the boys on their cells. Each time he'd ended up in voice mail hell. His final message to Dean had been to threaten him, with death by dismemberment, unless he returned the older hunter's call. That had been over an hour ago and still Bobby had heard nothing.

Growing impatient with waiting at the door while his boys were in trouble, Bobby lifted his hand intent on knocking again. Instead, the door was whipped open before he could make contact.

"Well, it damn well took you long enough."

Surprised by the words, and even more by the plump, seventy year old woman that uttered them, Bobby was caught momentarily speechless. Apparently, that wasn't something that often happened to the plump woman he now faced.

"Well, get the heck in here. We've got work to do." Giving him no chance answer, she reached out, grabbed his arm and tugged him through the door. Her grip was surprisingly strong for how tiny she was.

As Bobby was pulled through the entry and into the kitchen, he noticed another woman standing near the countertop. Dressed in a pair of black slacks, sneakers, with a tee shirt tucked snugly into the waistband of her pants, she appeared to be filling a backpack. As they finally came to a stop, Bobby had the sudden urge to sprinkle holy water on both ladies just to make sure this wasn't a trap.

"Now, what do we need to bring?" the plump woman asked as she released his arm and moved toward the taller woman.

Bobby shook his head and finally gave into the urge to scratch his head in confusion. Whipping off his hat, he ran his hands through his iron-grey hair. "I'm sorry, I'm not quite followin'. You called me to tell me the boys needed help. Where the hell are they and who're you?"

The older woman spoke at last, her whiskey rough voice rang with impatience. "The men left here over two hours ago. We have not heard from them since. It's obvious they are in trouble."

Bobby nodded, his own feeling of unease growing. "Okay, I get that they might be in trouble, but, I'm gonna need a bit more to go on. On the phone you said, that Sammy insisted you call me?" Earlier Bobby had been surprised by the older woman's words. It just wasn't like the brothers not to call in person if they needed help.

The tiny woman flushed, but before she could say anything more the taller woman spoke. "To put it succinctly, the boys were helping us out. They ended up with a lead and took off after it. The problem is Sam is very sick, and Dean's pretty run down. It's been a rough week. Just before they left Sam, gave us your number in case..."

Here the woman's voice trailed off and her eyes clouded with worry. Bobby understood immediately. So, Sam had insisted he be called in for cleanup in case things got messy had he. "Damn stubborn kids. They should have called me themselves if they needed a hand."

Floss, practically danced toward the back door. "Please, can't we play twenty questions in the car? We need to go track them down."

"Well, hold on a minute there. Wherever it is I'm going, you two ladies can just forget about going with me. Whatever these boys got tangled with you can believe that's not something you wanna come up against." Bobby had not intention of allowing the two women before him to go after the Winchesters no matter how much they wanted. The last thing he needed was a couple old ladies tagging along.

"Peg, and I are going. You're going to need our help to find them."

Bobby drew a breath, intent on arguing, when Peg spoke up. "They're chasing down something called a Black Annis. Can you really help them?"

"Shit," Bobby exclaimed before he could stop himself. He'd heard of the creature years ago but had never actually gone up against one. The hag's main diet did go quite a ways to explaining why the boys rushed headlong into the fight when they clearly weren't up for it. "There was a victim?"

Floss nodded, her tiny hands fluttering. "Yes, two actually. One had already been found, but the other, well the boys thought there was a chance that the baby was still alive."

Bobby nodded, really there wasn't anything else to say. Neither Winchester would ever consider abandoning a child to die, not if there was the smallest chance of preventing it. Already mentally preparing the list of supplies he'd need, Bobby headed for the front door, calling over his shoulder, "Just give me their location and I'll head out now."

"No."

"No."

The two simultaneous 'no's' had Bobby turning on a dime to face the woman. "What?"

Floss cleared her throat, seeming slightly intimidated by Bobby's near lethal voice. "We won't tell you unless you take us with you."

"You'll damn well tell me what I need to know and you'll do it now. Those boys are my family, I won't let them be hurt."

Peg's belligerent stance eased slightly at Bobby's words. "Mr. Singer, we don't want them hurt anymore than you do. We've become very fond of them, but, they're out there, possibly hurt and they may just have an infant with them. Now call me a crazy old lady if you want, but that seems like more than one man can handle."

Bobby dropped his head and blew out a breath in frustration. Finally, he looked up and shook his head in frustration. "Fine, but you two will stay in the truck. I won't have it any other way."

The older hunter didn't miss the look that passed between the women. Why was it he got the feeling he was being played. Unable to do much about it at for the time being, Bobby headed for the truck. His bad feeling had just gone from mild alarm to a screaming, ear-splitting siren.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Okay guys so we're really coming down to it now, there's only one more chapter left to be posted and I'll have it up tomorrow. I just wanna say a quick thanks for the wonderful response to the story, you guys have been great and its sooooo appreciated. ;) Kel

888

Sam had to admit that when Jessica was alive the thought of having children crossed his mind. Why wouldn't it? He was after all planning on proposing to Jess so obviously he'd considered their future. For him, his future was Jessica, and it was impossible to imagine her as anything other than a mother. Plus, Sam had walked away from his Dad and Dean for the life of normal, one that included not just the house in the suburbs, but a play set in the yard and kids to play on it. He'd wanted the opportunity to provide for his children the childhood he'd lacked. To Sam it would be the last real proof that he'd left his nightmares behind.

Then his nightmares had come to life and destroyed his future, leaving him with nothing more than the taste of revenge and a broken heart. Since then he'd shoved away every last thought of normal and embraced who he'd been raised to be. So to say that he felt un-prepared to deal with little Oscar was the understatement of the year. Normally when kids presented themselves he left Dean to handle them. There was something about his older brother that seemed to reassure even the youngest and most traumatized of children.

The easy answer was that Dean was nothing more than a large child himself and that kids simply responded to what they sensed, Sam knew better. When it came to Dean, nothing was ever easy. His brother's surprisingly effortless way with children was simply a by-product of having already raised a child, when he was little more than a kid himself.

Rescuing a baby was all fine and well if you were Dean 'big brother extraordinaire'. However, if instead, you were the perpetual baby brother, an infant posed a whole host of problems. Sam had spent a total of three minutes of his entire life in the presence of a baby and believe it or not that hadn't provided him with much to base his current situation on.

In fact, wrapping the baby in his shirt and balancing the babe in his arm was about the extent of his abilities. So when Oscar began to first whimper, then grow in volume. At last working his way up to a full crescendo, Sam was unsure what to do. The one thing he did know was that he had to quite the baby somehow, if he didn't the Annis was bound to come see what the problem was.

"Sh," Sam whispered, jiggling the baby up and down hoping the motion would help to soothe the tiny tot. Instead, if anything the baby's volume increased, causing the steady ache that had resided behind Sam's eyes for the last day to increase two-fold. Grimly aware that his chances of becoming Mary Poppins before the Annis came to make lunch out them both were pretty slim, Sam gave up trying to calm the baby and instead set about searching once more for the back door that he was sure must exist.

By the light of his flashlight, he'd already inspected every inch of the walls that surrounded them. The only opening he'd come across was the main entrance in. He hesitated before that hole, almost desperate enough to take the chance of being caught in the cramped passageway.

He couldn't do it, he decided as he turned away from the opening, he would never be able to defend himself and Oscar if he followed that tunnel. Guided only by his flashlight, he moved back to where the Annis made her nest. At first, he'd done only a cursory examination of the area simply because he couldn't stand the sight or the smell. Now, however, after examining every other area he couldn't avoid the nest any longer.

Earlier he'd noted the broken fencing that the hag had made her bed out of. Laid out on top, was a mat made up of strips of what looked like dried leather. Sam knew without a doubt that the 'leather' strips weren't made from any animal on earth. Instead, they were cut from the Black Annis' victims. Disgusted to the point he thought he might vomit, Sam noted that each strip was roughly an inch wide, and they were laid out in a criss-cross pattern. The resulting 'material' looked very much like a warped potholder, weaved by some sort of crazed third grader. He didn't even bother trying to contain the shudder that ran through him. The mat, as Sam forced himself to think of it, was probably four foot by three foot and most likely made up her bed.

A surge of anger ran through him, at the thought of all the lives lost, the families destroyed at the hands of the Black Annis. Lashing out with a curse and his size fourteen boot, Sam kicked the bed dislodging the mat and knocking over the stacked boards.

Oscar's cries, which had up to this point had tapered off a bit, renewed with Sam's outburst. The young hunter forced himself to calm down, hoping that if he were relaxed the baby might quiet, and began to rock up and down on his toes.

Ready to once again renew his search, Sam panned the beam of his flashlight over the now ruined bed. As the light moved over the ground, something caught his eye. With a grimace for the debris that littered the ground, Sam took a knee. With the baby, still squalling, tucked into the crook of his arm, and the flashlight in his hand, Sam reached out with his other hand and gave a shove to the platform.

"Holy Shit," Sam breathed as he looked down at a the perfect hole he'd uncovered. By the light of the flashlight, Sam could see the opening was roughly three feet in diameter. There seemed to be the faintest bit of glow seeping into the very bottom of the well.

Sam had found the backdoor, but what a backdoor it was. Tight to the point he worried his shoulders wouldn't fit through it was also very deep. The Black Annis had designed it to be a way out only, once in the hole there was little chance that someone could reach the lip of the opening to pull themselves out. It made for an effective locked door.

That suited Sam just fine. Obviously, the reason the Black Annis had yet to storm the lair and attack him was that she was confident that he was trapped. Secure in the knowledge that Sam wouldn't find her little exit, her attention was probably centered on the opening, if she wasn't lying in wait in the tunnel entrance itself.

The hard part would be dropping to the bottom of the tunnel with little Oscar in his arms. Though he knew it was their only way out he was afraid of damaging the baby anymore than he'd already been hurt. A whole host of what if's ran through Sam's mind as he calculated the risk. At last, he decided he had little choice, if it came down to a head on confrontation with the Annis then there was little chance the baby would survive.

The safest bet would probably be to leave the baby in the cave and trust in his ability to get the Annis before she could get him. Problem was, the idea of leaving the helpless baby in the dark once more was morally repugnant. It wasn't something that he could willingly do. That meant for better or worse, he and Oscar would flee the dark in the tunnel below together.

Decision made, Sam tucked his flashlight into his pocket and grasped the baby to his chest. Thankfully once tucked fully against his chest Oscar's cries eased and at last stopped with a slight whimper. Placing one large hand against the baby's head, Sam pressed him tightly against his body. Throwing his legs over the edge of the hole, he wiggled to the edge.

Now that he'd made his decision, his biggest worry was that he wouldn't fit down the narrow opening. Though he was slim through the hips his shoulders were wide, and from this angle too wide might be a better description. Reaching out with one foot, Sam dug his boot into the side of the hole and began to ease his way down.

Unwilling to let go of the babe, he kept up constant pressure with his legs pushing against the tunnel wall. As he continued down, he noted that the opening seemed to be growing even tighter. Shoulders brushing on each side, Sam really hoped that he hadn't consigned himself to a long, slow, death in a space no bigger than a coffin.

Down he went, shimmying his way as he used his legs and at times even his elbows to keep from dropping too fast. At last, he scraped bottom. Allowing himself to drop the last inch, Sam eased his hold on the baby.

Feet on solid ground didn't relieve Sam as much as he'd thought it would. Maybe it was the thought of the Annis catching him in this position or maybe it was just a simple case of claustrophobia, either way, he was working hard to push down the panic.

As he pressed his back into the dirt wall, he began to scooch down, snaking his legs into the tunnel that broke off at a ninety-degree angle from the hole he was in. At last, he lay horizontal, the baby now resting on his chest. There was just enough clearance for him to raise his head and look toward where the faint glow of moonlight called to him.

He was left with no choice but to snake his way out. Thankful that the baby was unable to wriggle too much, Sam began to work his way out, using his arms and legs as much as he was able. A faint breeze reached Sam, helping to push away the reek of the black den, the fresh air was a blessing and helped to urge him on.

The weeks of illness and his subsequent treks through the forest had left him feeling beyond weak, regardless, he pushed on. He had learned from the best that sometimes there was nothing else you could do.

Just when he felt he couldn't go any farther, his legs were free. The last few feet went fast, with Sam finally able to use his legs freely. Then he was out, staring up into a moonlight night, with the small weight of Oscar sleeping on his chest. The warmth of Sam's body combined with the rocking motion of his movement had apparently been enough for the tiny baby.

Sam regretted that his motion might wake the baby, but he had no choice. With a faint groan, he sat up and climbed to his feet. Amazingly, the baby's eyes stayed closed, his breathing deep and steady.

A quick search of the area, led Sam to believe that he was somewhere near the hole that he had pulled Dean out of. That meant he was probably only ten minutes from the cave's opening. Determined to find his brother, Sam took off at a quick lope.

888

Dean pushed back against the rock he was leaning against and grimaced at the wave of pain that rolled through him. He welcomed the jolt of adrenaline that accompanied the pain. It seemed to the hunter that he'd been fighting to stay aware and awake for hours now. In reality, it was probably closer to only an hour since Sam and he had parted ways.

For the last half-hour or so, he'd been trying his best to keep the entrance to the cave in focus. He was fairly certain that the Annis had yet to make her way back inside. She must be off in the woods somewhere licking her wound or more likely plotting an attack. It was obvious, despite her personal hygiene and diet, that she was intelligent and more than capable of defending both herself and her latest meal.

That scared Dean more than he could admit. His baby brother facing off against the Annis with little more than a flare gun and a baby wasn't a fair fight in Dean's opinion. Problem was, he knew he had maybe one more ounce of fight left in him and if he began touring the forest looking for the creature, he would lose that last little bit.

With a clenched jaw, he accepted that for now, until either Sam or the Annis showed themselves he would have to wait. Normally, Dean found that waiting sucked. However, when you add in a shoulder that felt as if it were on fire and his steadily rising fever, most likely from the raging infection that was now worming its way through said shoulder, waiting became even suckier.

Huh, thought Dean, suckier, now that was a word that really worked for a lot of Dean's life. His father's death, sucked, his father's last words were, suckier. Yup, before he promised his brother that he would end his life if necessary things had sucked, afterward they took on a decidedly suckier vibe. Suckier, a word for all occasions, well at least if you were a Winchester anyway.

Dean cut off his inner tirade when a hint of movement caught his attention. There, just along the wall of stone that made up the cave, a hint of color that looked more ghostly grey in the moonlit night than the normal vibrant blue. "Well, looks like the bitch is back," Dean breathed as he leaned forward to better see the Black Annis.

As he watched, the creature proceeded to climb the sheer wall outside of the cavern. It's long claws allowed it to cling to the rock with ease. Once it was above the opening it went still. So still in fact that Dean could barely make out where it sat. For the moment, it seemed satisfied to watch and wait.

Wait and watch, two things that Dean no longer wanted to do. Finally, it seemed as if he could be some use. There was no way he was going to let Sammy end up as dinner for that hag. Weapon or no, there had to be a way.

888

"We'll lead you to the caves," Floss said, as she threw open the door to the Pontiac and climbed out of the car. As she followed Mr. Singer into the beam of light cast by the headlights, she found herself glad they'd managed to talk him into driving the sedan. She was long past the age where hiking herself into the front seat of a pick-up was dignified looking.

Dignified mattered, at least it did when you were trying to convince a stubborn jackass that one was capable of being useful. Mr. Singer, the ass, had apparently decided that she and Peg were little better than useless. Well, he was in for a serious surprise. She might be old but she wasn't in the ground yet and she'd be damned if she'd be treated as such.

"Oh, no you two don't. There's no way I'm traipsing through the forest with you two in tow. You'll stay here by the car and you won't budge a goddamn inch," Bobby countered as he tucked a flare gun into the waistband of his pants, the other he held in his hand at the ready.

Despite his highhanded attitude, Floss couldn't help but notice just how capable he seemed, strong and commanding even. He could use a little bit of fattening up though, Floss bet a good meal would really go a long way to softening up his-

"Floss," Peg barked, her eyes flashing with exasperation. "Would you like to focus here for a moment?"

Floss tossed her sister a wink and focused her attention on Mr. Singer once more. "Now, listen, you're not leaving us behind. Our daddy taught us to shoot and we haven't lost our touch. Besides, we can lead you faster than you can Louis and Clark your way through the forest."

"Faster," the younger man snorted. "This is no expedition and if it were, it'd be more along the lines of the Donner party, so you will stay here and that's my final word." The bearded man tugged on the cap he was wearing and turned his back on both women.

Floss exchanged a long look with her sister and turned to face Mr. Singer. "Alright, Mr. Singer, we'll stay here. I'm sure you're right this is no place for us."

"I done told you it's Bobby, Mr. Singer was my father and how come you're so willing all of a sudden to do as your told?"

The skepticism in Bobby's voice made it clear that he doubted Floss' truthfulness. She couldn't afford the younger man to question her word. One swift glance toward Peg had her sister moving forward, her raspy voice drawing Bobby's attention.

"Mr. Singer, despite what you think, my sister and I know this child and we've spent countless hours with the Winchester boys, as you call them. We are involved whether you like it or not. That being said, I want you to understand that we only want to help."

Bobby nodded, his face softening for just an instant before he grimaced. "Yeah, well, I appreciate what you've done for those boys, what with Sammy being so sick and all. God knows the two of them are handfuls, but I can't have you two in danger while I'm trying to help them. It'll be for the best if you just remain here and let me do my job."

At the surprising show of compassion from the curt man, Floss found herself tearing up. It was obvious despite his thundering bark and his gruff exterior that he cared deeply for the brothers. She could appreciate someone that valued family, even if the relationship wasn't blood. Loyalty in a man was something that in Floss' experience was hard to come by, it was obvious, that Bobby Singer was loyal to a fault.

As he bent down to retrieve the duffle bag he'd brought, Floss couldn't help but wonder what he'd look like if he were cleaned up. She continued to watch in appreciation as he gave a single salute over his shoulder, and disappeared into the dark of the forest. Maybe even a shave, after all, she-

"Floss! Do you think you could turn your attention to the trouble at hand?" Peg snapped.

Floss turned a surprised gaze toward her sister and shrugged. "I'm paying attention, now come on before he gets too far away." Floss pretended that she didn't hear her sister's exasperated sigh as she pulled out her flashlight and made her way into the forest."


	12. Chapter 12

Sam had a plan. It wasn't much of a plan, but it was a plan nonetheless. Problem was there was a slight snag to his plan. A snag that was working himself up into a good old fashioned fit.

**Author's Notes**: Okay, so here we are the last chapter. I'm so absolutely thrilled with your response to this story, it just kils me that you all seem to have enjoyed. So, thanks for all the reviews and to those that are reading silently and I'll catch you all later ;) Kel

888

Oscar had awoken about ten minutes ago. Since then the baby had gone from sound asleep to fretful to down right cranky. Sam had little doubt it was only a matter of time before the little guy gave away their position. Try as he might, Sam seemed incapable of quieting the baby. He had little doubt that the boy was hungry, cold, and scared. Unfortunately, that made two of them.

The panic began to grow within Sam the more the baby wriggled. Not sure what more he could do, Sam began to bounce up and down trying to sooth the small bundle. If anything, Oscar's fretting grew louder leaving Sam with little choice. The Black Annis needed to be destroyed and it needed to happen tonight.

He was going to have to leave Oscar somewhere safe, and carry on his fight against the creature. Sam hated the idea of leaving the defenseless baby alone, but he also knew that if he didn't do something then there was little chance of surviving for either of them. Decision made, Sam began to move deeper into the dark forest, doing his best to find somewhere secure.

"Hey, Mary Poppin's, that's a baby you're carrying not a martini shaker."

A tidal wave of relief flooded Sam as he turned to find his brother leaning heavily against the trunk of a nearby tree. Despite looking as if he'd battled a combine and lost, Dean was alive. Even better, he was grinning.

Sam returned his smile and gestured to the baby. "You're welcome to try your hand."

Dean snorted and crooked his finger, indicating Sam should come to him. That one gesture worried Sam more than anything else could have. If Dean couldn't manage to walk the twenty feet that separated them then he was worse off than Sam could see. Obliging his brother, he closed the distance between them.

"God am I glad to see you," Sam said as he reached the elder Winchester's side.

Dean sent Sam a ghost of a smile and said, "I gotta admit I'm happy to see you too, kiddo. How's the babe?"

Sam glanced down at the infant that was still squirming, his small fists flailing, and shrugged. "He actually seems fine."

Dean nodded and shifted slightly, easing even more of his weight against the tree trunk. "He's gonna start crying any minute. You gotta settle him down, Annie's out here."

Sam couldn't help the faint blush that flooded his cheeks. He really had no clue how he was supposed to settle Oscar down.

With a slight groan, Dean cradled his bad arm and asked, "How'd you make it out?"

Sam began to bounce the baby, hoping to quiet him and replied, "You don't want to know. Let's just say I found her emergency exit."

"Yeah, well good thing, 'cause I wasn't the only one watching the entrance. She's been waiting for you for the last fifteen minutes. It's only by chance that I saw you sneaking up on her."

"Yeah, well, I have a plan," Sam paused waiting for Dean's protest. His brother rarely, if ever, wanted to hear his plans. This time though, Dean simply grimaced and waited for Sam to go on. Sam took it as the bad sign it was and continued, "I was planning on leaving Oscar somewhere safe."

Dean nodded and began to inch his way down to the ground, using the tree as leverage. Sam automatically stepped forward and moved to help but Dean's groan of pain stopped him. He wasn't sure just how badly his brother was hurt and he didn't want to risk making things worse.

Once settled Dean looked up at Sam and shot him another tired smile. "I'm about as safe as you're gonna find, Sammy, I'll watch over the kid and you go blow that bitch to hell."

Sam met Dean's grin with his own and nodded. "I think I can manage that." His grin quickly faded though as he saw his brother's eyes dip down and Dean's head begin to nod forward. "Dean!" he called, jerking his brother back into consciousness.

"I'm good, I'm good," Dean slurred as he straightened up just the tiniest bit. "Give me Oscar and go, sooner we get out of here the better."

As gently as he could, Sam settled the baby into Dean's good arm. The baby by this time had moved past the fretful stage and was beginning to squawk in anger. Scared that the noise would alert the Black Annis, Sam moved forward to take the baby back. Dean never gave him a chance.

"I got it, Sam, just go burn the bitch." With those words, Dean raised his good arm slightly, resting his cheek against the downy softness of Oscar's round head.

As Dean began to murmur softly to the baby, Sam felt a fragment of memory stir, an aching recollection of days long past when Dean was his constant.

"Go, Sam," Dean barked.

Sam went. Like it or not he was the only one still on his feet. That meant it was up to him to stop the Black Annis and get both his brother and the baby out of this nightmare.

Sam began to run. As he lengthened his stride, his intention to swing wide of the cave entrance, he realized that he actually felt good, not great, but better than he had in days. Careful to do no more than draw short panting breaths, Sam began to go over his idea repeatedly, ensuring that little was left to chance.

888

Sam stood at the edge of the clearing and stared at the entrance to the cave. Dean was right. He could just barely pick out the creature keeping guard over the opening. If he hadn't found that back exit the Annis would have ambushed him before he'd even realized she was there.

Pulling his gun from the waistband of his jeans, Sam checked the ammo. He knew he'd get only one shot at this and he couldn't afford to screw things up. Too many lives were depending on him. With ease, he snuck up on the creature, creeping closer and closer to her perch. At last, when he'd deemed he was close enough, he took aim and fired.

The shot tore through the night, hitting its intended target with a kick. The force was so great the Annis was knocked backward from the impact. Job done, Sam turned and began to run. As he moved through the night, he began to watch for the markers he'd left scattered throughout the woods. There, a piece of his flannel shirt fluttering in the wind, here, another strip indicating he was still on track.

As tempted as he was to slow down, to ensure that the creature followed, he knew that if he did he was dead. The Black Annis was simply too fast, and though the silver bullet he had shot her with might slow her down a bit, there was no way it would stop her.

So, Sam ran. He ran as if his life depended on it, and really it did. He wouldn't stand a chance if he were to meet the crone face to face. It wasn't long before his passage through the forest was echoed by another. The noises of pursuit were minimum, at first just the crack of a tree limb or the rustle of the brush. Then as she closed the distance between them, the sounds became louder.

Unable to stop himself, Sam threw one single glance over his shoulder as he passed his last marker. She was right on top of him, so close in fact that he could see the faint moonlight gleaming off her ragged teeth. Allowing himself no time reconsider, Sam jumped forward.

With a leap worthy of superman, Sam's momentum carried him up and over the hole that had been Dean's prison. With a grunt of exertion he landed, the lip of the trap catching him in the gut, his leg's dangling into the pit below.

The creature, hot on his tail, hadn't realized just where Sam had led her. She'd had no chance to jump. Instead, she'd landed in the hole her scream of fury breaking the silence of the night.

While Sam struggled to pull himself out, he listened to the cries of anger and grunts of exertion that filtered up from the pit below him. He knew the trap wouldn't hold the Black Annis permanently, she would eventually manage to claw her way out, but for now it would act as a trap, giving Sam a better shot at destroying her.

He had only one chance to destroy the creature with the flare gun and he wasn't about to risk missing. With pleasure, Sam leaned over the edge of the pit and took aim. The Annis so enraged by her capture didn't even look up as Sam leveled the gun at her. Instead, she clawed at the edge of the crumbling pit obviously trying to dig her way out.

Sam squeezed the trigger. The flare tore from the muzzle with a flash of smoke and a spark. It hit the Black Annis dead on, knocking her back from the mud walls. For a moment, Sam thought he'd failed. Then the flare burst, igniting the beast in a bright flash of light.

The creature went up like dry tinder, the glare so bright that Sam had to shade his eyes. At last the glow died down, leaving Sam blinking away the flare spots that filled his vision. A glance down the now dark pit showed him there was nothing left of the Black Annis.

With a deep sigh, Sam turned away from the pit, intent on making his way back to Dean and Oscar. That's when he began to cough, deep wracking coughs that felt as if they would tear the lining from his throat.

888

It was a low barking sound that brought Dean back to consciousness. He wasn't sure how long he'd been out of it but he had a feeling it was longer than he realized. Dean shrank back, grateful for the dark clothing he wore as he strove to blend in with his surroundings. There was little he could do against the Annis, but he was still determined to try. For better or worse he was the only protection little Oscar had.

The baby had drifted off soon after Sam had handed him over. Dean knew it was the unnatural heat his body was radiating that had helped to warm and soothe the little boy to sleep. At least his fever was good for something, Dean thought, as he forced his eyes wide once more.

"Dean?" a familiar voice ground out.

Relief poured through him as he strove to return his brother's call, "Sam." Though the sound was little more than a whisper, rather than the yell he'd intended, Dean was pretty sure it had still done the trick, he could hear Sam getting closer.

"I'm here, where are you?" Sam questioned then broke into a fit of coughing.

Dean winced at the sound of Sam's rattling cough. "We're here, you okay?" Dean called thankful he was able to put a bit more force in his voice this time.

"I'm fine, she's dead. How's the baby?" Sam asked as he came into view.

"He's fine," Dean replied as he brushed one finger against the sleeping baby's soft cheek. "Sound asleep for the moment."

"Good, cause I have no clue how we're gonna make it back to the car," Sam replied as worked to smother another cough.

Hearing the strain in his brother's voice, Dean pushed aside his own discomfort and levered his back against the trunk. With a grunt, he began the tiring process of gaining his feet.

Sam spat in the forest behind him, and wiped his face with a grimace. "Why don't you let me take him for a bit?"

Dean didn't want to admit that responsibility for the baby was the only thing keeping him on his feet. Instead, he replied, "I'm good for a bit."

Step by step, the brothers made their way through the forest, neither one seeming to notice that they slowed more and more.

888

"There, Mr. Singer, as promised that's the third cave." Floss pointed toward the cave, struggling to keep her panting to a minimum. She didn't want to give the younger man any excuse to keep her from going on.

Peg seemed to have the same idea, she had maintained her spot right next to the hunter, her long legs easily keeping pace with the grizzled man.

Bobby held up one hand up, and both Floss and Peg dropped back just a bit. It was obvious the man heard something they'd missed. The hunter was armed with a flare gun and had given one to Peg after Floss had grudgingly admitted that her older sister was the better shot.

At his obvious agitation, Peg had pulled the gun and was keeping it trained on the dark foliage in front of her. Though the night had started to give way to daylight it was still left most of the forest in shadows, shadows deep enough to hide something more ominous than a couple of playful squirrels.

Floss listened hard and heard the sound that Bobby was obviously hearing. She had no trouble interpreting just what it was, she had, after all, spent the last week listening to it. "Sam," she cried as she moved forward.

Peg had obviously heard it as well, as she fell in behind Floss without hesitation.

"Stop," Bobby whispered as he scrambled to get in front of the sisters.

"It's Sam," Floss hissed as she all but bowled him over.

"That ain't Sam, that's some kind of animal," Singer snapped as he pushed the brim of his hat back on his forehead.

"We explained that Sam was sick. That's him," Peg replied as she dropped the gun back to her side.

"Well, hell," Bobby swore, "just 'cause that might be Sam doesn't mean you should go tearing through the..."

Bobby's voice trailed off as they burst through some undergrowth and nearly ran straight into the Winchester boys.

Floss couldn't help but flinch at just how poorly both boys looked. Sam was flushed and struggling to draw breath, and Dean seemed to be staggering more than walking. Most blessed of all was the obvious bundle Dean held gripped in his arms.

"Thank God," Peg rasped as she stepped forward already holding her arms out to accept the baby.

Dean hugged the baby close for a moment, his glassy gaze obviously trying to determine the danger that Peg presented. Peg for her part never hesitated. With a low, "You did good, son." She reached out and gently drew the baby from his arms.

The elder Winchester stood his ground for about three seconds after the baby was taken before his eyes rolled up in his head and he hit the ground with a thud.

"Dean," Bobby and Sam shouted in unison, the latter's voice sounding raw, as both men darted toward the fallen hunter.

Peg cradled the baby in her arms and turned to face Floss, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "These boys faint more than a nun at an orgy."

Floss met her sister's grin and added, "Men are definitely the weaker sex."

888

Sam eased back against the chair and smothered a cough. He could do that now, unlike before, when the coughing would burst through regardless. It was just another sign in a growing list that he was at last overcoming his cold.

Dean, however, was beginning to worry him. Sam now had first hand experience of how it felt to keep a bedside vigil, and he found he didn't like it. It had been four days since they'd returned from the woods. In that time, Dean had awoken only a handful of times, leaving Sam to worry more and more. Though the Black Annis had worked the older man over a bit, it was the infection that had quickly set in that had caused the most problems.

"How's he doing," Bobby asked as he passed Sam a styrofoam cup of coffee.

Sam looked up in surprised, he hadn't even heard the older man enter the room. "He's gonna be fine," Sam said automatically not willing to consider an alternative.

"'Course he is, he's a Winchester." Bobby stared down at Dean for a moment worry creasing lines in his face. At last, he looked up and caught Sam's eye. "Well, rest assured the police are well out of it. Those Mabel sister's are a handful to say the least."

Sam snorted in agreement. "You don't know the half of it. What'd they do now?"

Bobby walked to the far wall of the clinic's only room and grabbed a chair that rested there. Pulling it forward, he didn't answer Sam until he'd settled in next to Dean's bed. "What haven't they done. They managed to call off the heat, police wanted you two questioned in the baby's disappearance, what with you guys being the only strangers in town. Then they also managed to lead a manhunt back to the caves in order to try and find the 'real' killer."

"Real killer, huh, I guess the posse was a bit shocked by what they found," Sam said as he straightened the covers that lay across Dean's chest.

Bobby grimaced as he thought about the headlines he'd read detailing what had been found in the Black Annis's cave. "Just a bit. What matters is it's over, and the families of the victims are finally getting some closure. Doesn't help much but it's something I guess."

"So we're good to leave?"

With a nod, Bobby answered, "Soon as sleeping beauty here wakes up."

"Even on my deathbed, you're giving me crap," Dean rasped as he opened his eyes.

Sam laughed in relief as Dean's green gaze focused on him. "No respect, huh?"

"Absolutely none," Dean replied as he struggled to sit up.

"Just lie still, I've got it," Sam assured his brother as he reached for the bed remote.

"Thanks, Sammy, you good?" Dean questioned as he sipped at the cup of water that Bobby had handed him.

"Better everyday. How're you feeling?" Sam asked throwing the ball back in Dean's court.

With a sigh, Dean said, "Like I've been hit by a truck. I wasn't was I?"

"Naw, from what I hear, you got hit by one ugly son-of-a-bitch," Bobby answered obviously pleased to see the younger hunter awake and aware.

"You're arm's fine, took some stitches but the doc fixed you up," Sam assured his brother.

"Good, and the baby?"

"Fine, and last I heard on his way home from the hospital over at Riverport,"

"Floss tell you that, Bobby?" Sam asked with a smirk.

Though he was sure he'd catch a ration of shit from his father's long-time friend, it was worth it to tease Bobby about his newly burgeoning romance with the younger of the two Mabel sisters.

Dean's face lit up as he took in Bobby's flushed, frowning face. "Bobby, you old dog. Didn't take you for a love 'em and leave 'em kinda guy."

"Quit your yapping, you ain't my priest so excuse me if I don't confess. Floss' is a good woman and a damn fine cook so show some respect."

At the set-down Sam and Dean exchanged glances. For just one moment, Sam felt guilty for teasing the older hunter about his interest in Floss. Then Sam pictured the long line of fiancé's that had met their fate before Floss could make it official and he began to laugh.

Dean's laughter echoed his own as his brother gasped, "Better watch yourself, Bobby. The men in Floss's life have a tendency to end up dead."

Tears pouring down his cheeks, Sam let loose another burst of laughter. The force of which sent him into a coughing fit.

Dean at this point was holding his bad arm against his side as he gasped for air between fits of laughter.

Bobby took one look at the two men and threw up his hands. Gaining his feet, he shook his head, muttered something about the men being dumb asses' and left the room. Sam allowed the laughter to take him, relishing the sound of Dean's own hilarity.

888

"Okay now I've put sandwiches in here, plus a quart of chocolate milk, some other little tidbits and some of those cookies Dean's so fond of," Floss prattled as she struggled to lift the large styrofoam container.

Sam brushed her out of the way and lifted the cooler himself, as he did he winked at his brother who was being lectured by Peg.

"Change those bandages at least twice a day, you understand me. I won't have you re-infecting those wounds. Plus, you're still not completely over that fever. I expect that you won't go tiring yourself," Peg ordered making it clear that if he didn't listen she would find out and track him down.

"It's fine, Peg, I'm fine," Dean assured the older woman as he finished putting their bags into the back seat of the Impala.

Unable to take another minute in the clinic, Dean had checked himself out AMA twenty-four hours after regaining consciousness. He'd then spent the better part of three days being fussed over by the sisters Mabel at which point he'd threatened Sam with some pretty inventive torture if the younger man didn't find something for them to hunt.

Sam had obliged, and they'd begun to pack. Now here they were only minutes from leaving and the Mabel sisters were still throwing orders their way. Dean needed an out and he needed one fast.

"Hey, Bobby, your throat's not still hurting is it?" Dean yelled toward the grizzled hunter that was watching with amusement.

At Dean's words, both Peg and Floss turned to stare hard at Bobby, they're watchful eyes assessing him with care. Dean met Bobby's snarl with a grin of his own as he called out to Sam, "Let's hit it, Sammy. I'm sure the ladies can watch out for the old man."

Sam's grin was bright as he laughed outright. "Sounds good to me," he replied as he headed for the Impala's passenger side.

At last, safely ensconced in his beloved baby, Dean turned to wave at Bobby who was already fending off questions from the ladies. "Watch out for bus's, Bobby," Dean yelled as he put the car into gear.

Bobby's hand gesture, one that earned him a smack up the head by Peg, only made Sam and Dean laugh harder as they put the Mabel sisters and the hunter in their rear view mirror.

"You think he'll ever get free?" Sam asked as he settled in for the ride.

Dean grinned and said, "Maybe if he's willing to chew off his own leg. I don't know though it's a hard trap to escape, the ladies can cook."

Sam thought back to the going away breakfast they'd made this morning and groaned in pleasure. "I wonder what's in the cooler?"

"Give me a couple hundred miles of freedom Sam and I'll find us a nice spot to find out," Dean replied as he maneuvered the car out of town, pointing its big nose toward the highway.

Sam rested his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. "Sounds good to me."

The End.


End file.
